The King and the Wildman's Heir
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl/Carzekiel ZA. Let me start this by saying that Caryl is the romantic relationship here and Carzekiel is a friendship ship here. They are married, but it's not a traditional marriage. She could never love him the way that he wanted, and he'd come to accept that. Still, he could love her just as much as she needed, even if that meant accepting the Wildman.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I have no excuse for this other than I simply got the feels for it and I wanted to write it. That's it. That's all that I have to say for myself.**

**Here's a little about it. Carol and Ezekiel are together. They're "married," but they're not "really" married. Carol is still in love with someone else—and I think you know who. **

**There is some mention of past relationships that Carol has had. Sorry, she's no blushing virgin, and I haven't written her that way. There's nothing explicit, though. She just does something of a run-down of feelings and past/present experiences.**

**This is a little one shot about a situation that arises. I may write a second part to this eventually, but for now it's just a one shot. **

** I own nothing from the Walking Dead. I haven't even seen the show in a couple of years so please don't hold me accountable for canon or any of that nonsense since I haven't even seen the darn show. I just keep up with snippets on Tumblr.**

**Anyway, I doubt that anyone will read this, but if you do, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! **

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"It's a blessing on our kingdom," Ezekiel said. Carol moved her finger to drop the blind back into place on the bedroom window. She didn't step away from the window immediately, though.

The sound of his voice and the fake kingly accent normally didn't bother her, but right now she could absolutely feel it crawling up her spine at a sprint.

"Ezekiel, please," Carol said.

"What do you want, my queen?" He asked.

"Cut the crap?" Carol asked.

She turned around to find him smiling at her as he sat on the bed, one leg crossed under him. She sucked in a breath, held it, and released it slowly. She wasn't angry with Ezekiel. Actually, there had been very few times that she'd really been angry with him.

At her request, as usual, he did drop the act. He didn't drop his smile, though, even though his eyes did show that he was sincere.

"What do you want me to say, Carol? I believe it's a blessing. It will be a blessing for the Kingdom. Do you know how happy our people will be when they find out that their queen is going to give them another royal heir?"

Carol's stomach churned.

"Please don't call me that," she said.

"That's how they think of you," Ezekiel said. "Unless—you're regretting that decision?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Carol asked.

"The marriage?" Ezekiel asked.

Carol swallowed. She was surprised at herself. She was surprised at how angry she felt. Ezekiel had done nothing to her. He'd done nothing to make her angry. Nobody had done anything to make her angry. She'd woken up, honestly, feeling like her skin was electrically charged and crackling with her anger and irritation.

She might have clawed her way out of her own body if she'd thought it was possible to escape herself at that moment.

"The—baby," she said.

The word stuck in her throat. It scratched at her throat. It made it feel raw. It made her stomach churn, too, and reminded her that she was only a half-hour away from the majority of the morning that she'd spent on her hands and knees vomiting into a bucket and crying over her situation.

"Well—I'm going to love it," Ezekiel said. "I'm going to announce to the people that their queen—my wonderful wife—is expecting. And then I'm going to take care of my wife and wait for the baby to come. And when it comes, I'm going to love it."

"As your own?" Carol asked. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the windowsill behind her.

Ezekiel held his arms out, open, toward her. He invited her, without saying anything, to come toward him and embrace him.

She ached to embrace him at that moment, and he must have been able to sense it. She stood there, a moment longer, to try and show that she didn't need his comfort, but in the end her desire to be comforted won out over her pride. She came forward and he got to his feet to properly envelop her in a strong hug. He stroked the back of her head. He stroked her hair. He rubbed her back. She closed her eyes to the comfort of the embrace.

She loved him dearly. She was truly sorry that she could never love him the way he'd once hoped she would. At least he accepted the love that she did have to offer, and he returned it back tenfold.

"I will gladly take the baby as my own," Ezekiel said. "There's no question."

"This was never supposed to happen," Carol said. "I'm too old."

Ezekiel laughed and the laughter shook Carol as well.

"Clearly that's something you've just been telling yourself," Ezekiel said. "If you'll allow me to—bring back the crap—it's been common knowledge to me that as long as my lady's moons come upon her, this is something that might come to pass."

"What are you going to tell everyone?" Carol asked, pulling away from him.

Ezekiel smiled at her. He smiled warmly all the way to his eyes. He had sweet, soulful eyes. Carol felt a few of the knots in her chest untangling at the warmth of his smile. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm going to tell them that I am thrilled that my queen is bearing me a child," Ezekiel said. "I'm the king. I don't owe them anything else."

"You're sterile," Carol said.

Ezekiel made a face at her and, at the most inopportune of moments, Carol could feel humor bubbling up inside her at the expression. She pursed her lips at him to avoid laughing.

"I told you that as my wife," Ezekiel said. "But—you may be surprised to know that you're the only person in the Kingdom that is privy to that information. Nobody else needs to know that I'm incapable of fathering a child. Nor do they need to know that the queen and I have never properly consummated our marriage—even though we sleep in the same bed together every night for the warmth and the companionship."

Carol sighed and, stepping away from him entirely, went over to the bed. She sat down and ran her fingers over the blanket.

Ezekiel had offered her so many things. He'd given her everything she'd asked of him, too. He was generous, perhaps, to a fault.

Carol wanted a family. She enjoyed the strength that she'd found—or rather the strength that she'd cultivated to be something that others could see. She enjoyed being known for her skill with a knife, a gun, and a bow. She enjoyed her role as a semi-leader for the Kingdom.

But Carol had always wanted a family. She'd always enjoyed the domesticity of being a wife and a mother. Whether or not every woman saw it as a noble cause, it was something she'd dreamed of her entire life.

She'd found Ed first. She'd believed that she loved him, but he'd eventually numbed her to that love. She'd lost the daughter that he'd given her—the only child that she'd carried in her body.

Until now.

She'd found something of a surrogate motherhood with Judith, but she shared the girl with everyone else. Then she'd been made responsible for Lizzy and Mika.

For a brief moment, Carol had stood by a water pump and believed she might find a home and family with Tyreese. She might, in some way, become his wife—or at least his partner. Together they might raise three little girls. They might know a life together that was at least dotted with some peace.

But she'd lost that dream quickly and violently—before it had even fully come to fruition.

She'd adopted a role of feigned domesticity when she'd arrived at Alexandria and, losing herself among casseroles and cookies, she'd realized that she still ached for the home and family that she felt she needed deep down inside.

But everyone died. And the one man that she loved—truly loved—was so damaged by a world that was determined to destroy them all that she doubted if he could ever really love her. Even if he could love her, she doubted that he'd ever want a home and family with her.

She had sought comfort and the chance to pretend that she'd found what she was looking for in Tobin. What he'd lacked in desirability, he'd made up for in kindness. Carol had tried her best to play house with him. She'd tried her best to care for him. But at the end of the day, it was just a game, and she wasn't very good at playing it.

Carol felt sorry when Tobin died, even though she'd left him long before that, because she'd never loved him. She'd never given him what he needed or what he wanted from her. He had been good to her and, if she had allowed it, he would have been even better to her.

She couldn't love him, though. And she was sorry for not having told him that from the start.

She had told Ezekiel from the start that she could never love him.

Her heart already belonged to someone else, even if he never really wanted to have it entirely for himself.

Ezekiel had asked her to marry him, fully aware of her love for Daryl. He'd promised her that he would never ask from her more than she was willing to give. He'd promised her, too, that he would never stand in the way of her love. He wasn't interested in possessing her entirely—mind, body, and spirit. He sought companionship. He wanted her love, but he was happy even if that love was no more than the love of a very dear friend. He wanted to worship her body, but he understood if she didn't want to share that side of herself—and he understood if she wanted to, but preferred to remain somewhat detached. He didn't mind offering her nothing more than mere physical pleasure, because every body craved pleasure and physical closeness, if that was what she wanted. He would allow her to decide, each step of the way, what she wanted from their relationship.

He promised her that he would never force her to answer questions that she didn't want to answer, and he would allow her to go off, whenever she needed, to seek whatever it was that she seemed to desperately need.

He knew about her Wildman and her need to visit the forest—and he would never stop her from making the trips.

He would never ask more of her than she was willing to give, and he would forever be happy with anything she gave. So far, he had kept that promise even more so than Carol might have ever expected from him.

In return for anything she was willing to offer him, he would marry her. He would offer her companionship. He would offer her comfort when she needed it and company to chase away the loneliness. He would provide her with a home and stability, and he would help her raise her adopted son, Henry.

And he would never hold against her the man that she loved because he understood unrequited love.

Carol did love Ezekiel. Even if she could never love him the way that he wished she would.

"They'll know when it's born," Carol said. "Ezekiel—they're going to know that it's not your baby. They're going to know that I..."

"I'll dare any of them to speak a word against the honor of their queen," Ezekiel said. "Besides—Henry shares very little in common with me physically. Yet, I know he's my son. Just as you know he's your son."

Carol swallowed and nodded her head.

"What's Henry going to say?" Carol asked.

"He'll be thrilled," Ezekiel said. "A baby brother or sister. Someone to protect and cherish. He'll be very protective of his mother during this delicate time."

Ezekiel moved to the bed and sat down next to Carol. He dropped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against him. He smelled nice. He smelled familiar. The time that they'd spent together, at least, had brought that. Carol could find comfort with him.

"In everything you've asked me," Ezekiel said, "I've noticed that you've had very little concern for what Carol would say. For what Carol would think."

"I wasn't prepared to be a mother again," Carol said.

"But now that you are..." Ezekiel said. Carol could hear the question in his voice that prompted her to continue.

"It would be dangerous to try to get rid of it," Carol said.

"Something tells me that isn't what you would want," Ezekiel said, tightening his hold on her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, and we'll find the best healthcare that we possibly can. If that's what you want."

Carol laughed to herself.

"I still want the best healthcare we can find," Carol said. "Because—I'm a little bit terrified."

"It's as good as done," Ezekiel assured her.

"But I don't want to get rid of it," Carol said. "In fact, I'm a little terrified that something might happen to it."

"We'll do our best," Ezekiel said. "There are no promises, of course, but we'll do our best. Have you told him?"

Carol immediately knew that he was referring to Daryl.

"I only just realized it for myself," Carol said. "I haven't been back..."

"You should tell him," Ezekiel said. "The weather is nice. It doesn't seem like there are any storms coming. It would be a good time for you to make the trip. Still—I think you should take Henry with you this time. Just to be sure. You should tell Daryl, though. At the very least, he deserves to know that the heir you're carrying is really his."

Carol laughed insincerely to herself.

"He's so tangled up in his pain," Carol said. "His anger. He doesn't have room for this."

"He's never once turned you away," Ezekiel said.

"It's physical to him," Carol said.

"You know this because you've asked him?" Ezekiel asked.

"I know this because he's never said any different," Carol said.

"Have you?" Ezekiel asked. Carol didn't respond, but she didn't have to. He knew the answer. He hummed in response. "Some men can't say the words. Some women can't either. Especially not—not after everything."

"With everything that's happened, this would be the worst news to him," Carol said. "He doesn't need this."

"Shouldn't you at least tell him?" Ezekiel asked. "Give him the chance to make that decision?"

"And then what?" Carol asked with a laugh. "I bring him back here? I dust off the dirt and the twigs and the leaves? I peel the hides off that have nearly grown to him and I bring my Wildman of the forest back to the Kingdom? I force him to live in my home with—my husband?"

Ezekiel laughed.

"Though I would gladly be your love, Carol," Ezekiel said, "we both know that I am little more than a companion to you."

"I do love you, Ezekiel," Carol offered.

"I know you do," Ezekiel said. "And I love you. And—we both love Henry and we'll both love this baby. And if you brought your Wildman of the forest back here, we would make it work. It wouldn't be the first time that a king and queen occupied separate bedchambers, and it wouldn't be the first time that royalty took a lover." He laughed again. "Besides—the people do enjoy a good scandal and the Kingdom has needed a little awakening as of late."

Carol laughed. She reached her hand over and patted Ezekiel's leg. She puckered her lips at him and offered him a kiss. Kisses, handholding, and hugs were the only physical affections that she offered Ezekiel, but he never complained, and he never turned them down. He pecked her lips and smiled at her. With a finger, he brushed her hair back where it fell into her face.

"Well, my queen? Should I gather together the subjects for a blessed announcement?" Ezekiel asked.

Carol nodded.

"I think—I think we might as well," Carol said.

"And should I ready the horses for the queen and the prince to depart thereafter?" Ezekiel asked.

Carol swallowed against the nausea that welled up inside her.

"I think I'm more afraid that he wouldn't care at all," Carol said, "than I am that—he would care."

"However he feels," Ezekiel said. "He deserves to know. He may surprise you."

"Losing Rick—it's been hard on him. Everything. It's been hard on him," Carol said. "Something like this might be too much. It's better if it's my burden."

"It's not just your burden," Ezekiel said.

"I'd rather wait," Carol said. "Give him time. I'd rather—take some time, myself, to sit with it. To get used to it."

Ezekiel nodded.

"Very well," he said. "For the time being, I will help you carry the weight of it. Come, my queen. Let's tell the prince. Then, together, we can tell the Kingdom that you'll be giving them an heir."

Carol stood up.

"Thank you for understanding," she offered.

Ezekiel nodded again and refreshed his smile before he offered her an arm.

"I'll understand, as well, when you decide to disappear to the forest like the faerie queen I know you to be," he assured her. "All I ask is that—you don't stay gone forever. Even if you should find that you can never truly return. That you can never truly leave your Wildman. Don't stay gone forever. Even if you just come back to visit."

Carol slipped her arm into his and leaned her face against his shoulder.

"I couldn't stay gone forever," she promised. "I'll always come back." She laughed to herself. "Even if I have to drag my Wildman with me and find a way to explain it to all your subjects."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here we are. I had a few chapters planned in this short story, but I wasn't sure that anyone would be interested. It seems that a few of you are, so I'll share them with you as I'm able. **

**I just want to remind everyone that I haven't been watching the show. I also don't write the show. I didn't make the decision to have Carol and Ezekiel marry in the first place. The fic is simply a way for me to reconcile things. There are thousands of ways that fic writers could do this. This is just one of them that came to me. I don't mean to upset anyone and you have my apologies if you feel upset.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter as it prepares us to move forward. **

**Please let me know what you think! **

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The morning sickness in the earliest days of Carol's pregnancy had been brutal enough that she had almost come to believe that she was finally being punished for everything she'd done wrong in her life. If the punishment the morning sickness doled out hadn't been enough, what it did to her body seemed to have knocked her immune system offline entirely. Every illness that came into the Kingdom found its way to her room somehow and she contracted it all at once. One thing after enough had slammed her body until she'd finally succumbed to it all enough to accept defeat and the bedrest that the doctor prescribed to her when there was nothing else to be done.

In between bouts of illness and fever—sometimes feeling like she might die and other times feeling like she was absolutely on the verge of losing another child—Carol had found the time to meticulously stumble through the events of her life and marvel at how, no matter where it seemed that she ended up, she always got there with the strange sense of ending up waist deep in something with no recollection of how she'd let herself get so deep in and with no knowledge of how to get herself out.

After she ran from Tobin, she had never intended to end up with anyone. But Daryl needed her, and she love him, and Ezekiel had needed her, and she'd cared for him...and Henry had needed her.

And somewhere, her self-worth had gotten tangled up with being needed. She'd almost gone blindly to wherever it was that she was needed.

She'd done things that she could never reconcile because that was what someone had needed her to do.

Maybe the only person whose needs she had consistently ignored was the one person she could never actually be without.

She had needs, too, even if she'd always silenced them.

She'd told Ezekiel as much when she was consumed by a bout of fever, and he hadn't let her forget it when the fever had passed.

Henry knew that the Kingdom was little more than an elaborate fantasy. It was a community like any other of the communities, and its people and contributions were real, but he knew that Ezekiel only called himself King and created the façade of a kingdom to give his people a respite from a harsh reality and to give them something to believe in. Ezekiel was not their king because he actually believed himself to be a king.

Henry knew, as well, that Carol wasn't a queen.

Henry understood the difference between make-believe and reality, and they hoped that having that understanding would help him when they explained the truth to him about their marriage.

The marriage, itself—the wedding and all that had really followed—had really been something for the people. In a time when morale was dropping and something of a depression was settling over the people, a royal wedding created a wonderful piece of fairytale to lift everyone's spirits. The marriage also helped, politically, to create a stronger bond and closer sense of kinship among those that belonged to the Kingdom and those that belonged to the other communities which held more of Carol's long-ago-adopted family.

But now, perhaps, it was time to let the curtain fall.

They'd spoken to Henry even before Carol felt well enough to be confident that she or the baby would survive the bouts of sickness that had attacked her. He was old enough to understand now. He was old enough to know.

But the truth had still surprised him, and it had shattered, at least a little, the reality that he thought he knew. His parents loved one another, because they'd told him that themselves, but they'd never quite loved each other in the way that he'd imagined.

Henry had run away, but he hadn't gone far. Ezekiel had found him at the cabin that Carol still used from time to time when she needed an escape. Whether it was what Ezekiel said to him or the fact that he was worried about Carol—Carol couldn't be sure which—Henry had come back quickly and declared that, though he was upset, he supported both of his parents and their decisions. He would support them, too, as they brought the truth to light for the people of the Kingdom.

Before the Kingdom could know, though, someone else needed to know a bit more about their lives.

Carol had been too sick to make it to the Hilltop where she might have had an ultrasound. She'd been too sick to really even be concerned with making it out of her bed. She didn't know how far along she was, and she could only guess that the baby she was carrying was healthy because there was nothing that had happened to tell her otherwise.

Whether it had been because of the weight she'd lost, because her body had once before accommodated the growth of another child, or because it had taken a while for her to realize that she was carrying the baby, Carol couldn't say, but she felt that she already had a quite noticeable bump to mark the spot where the child was growing.

It was starting to show itself in other ways, too.

Carol felt a strong hand wrap around her arm as she nearly toppled backward while trying to get to her feet after kneeling down to examine some of their growing vegetables more closely. She was practically placed securely on her feet so that her changing balance didn't cause her any harm.

"My queen," Jerry said, beaming at her when she turned around to face him. "The wagon is ready now."

Jerry had taken her illness very badly. He'd come to check on her nearly every day and he'd offered to care for her, himself, whenever Ezekiel needed to be absent for one reason or another. He'd been clearly afraid that she'd simply give up and let one of the high fevers consume her entirely. Carol already knew that he would take it hard when she and Ezekiel exposed the truth about their relationship and the child she was carrying, but she was confident that he'd come around and, one day, he'd understand.

"I asked you not to call me that, Jerry," Carol said. She softened her scolding with a smile. She wasn't really mad at him, but she didn't care for the fake title.

Jerry beamed back at her.

"One day," he offered. "How is the princess?"

Carol felt her cheeks run warm. She still wasn't used to the idea that she was carrying a baby even though enough time had passed that it should have become more natural to her. It still didn't feel right for others to talk about it. It felt foreign. Jerry would have a special interest in the child, however, due to his closeness to Ezekiel and, by extension, his affections for Carol.

"We don't know that it's a girl, Jerry," Carol replied.

Jerry renewed his smile.

"Her mother saw it in a dream, and that's good enough for me until we have other proof," Jerry said.

"It was less a dream and more a fever-driven hallucination," Carol said. "But the baby is fine as far as I can tell."

Jerry was clearly pleased.

"The wagon is ready," he repeated. "And the prince and the king are waiting. I can accompany you, if you'd like."

"Henry and I will be fine," Carol assured him.

She started in the direction where she knew that she'd find the wagon. Jerry walked with her, keeping step even though his strides were naturally larger than hers.

"To the Hilltop?" Jerry asked. "Or—off on another quest?"

Carol laughed to herself.

Ezekiel called her trips to see Daryl "visits to her Wildman" when they spoke among themselves. When he spoke to the people of the Kingdom, he simply said that she was going on a "Quest". She'd asked him once while he told them that instead of telling them something else, and he'd explained that a quest was a journey in search of something, and that he always felt that Carol was going in search of a piece of herself when she ventured out to meet her Wildman.

He'd asked her more than once if she'd found what she was looking for when she got back. She'd always told him that she hadn't quite found what she was looking for and that, perhaps, she wasn't even sure what she was seeking or if Daryl had it to offer.

The twisting sensation in her gut made her feel strangely hopeful that she'd find it this time—or at least that she'd finally find an answer that she could settle with.

"A quest," Carol said.

"I hope it is a successful one," Jerry offered.

"Me too," Carol said sincerely.

When she reached the wagon, Ezekiel was standing there with Henry. The few things they'd take with them were already loaded in the back of the wagon. It would have been checked out for safety, but there would be tools for emergencies in the back, along with weapons. The horses had been fed and watered, but there would be provisions for them as well.

Ezekiel smiled at her as she walked up and he reached out a hand. When Carol caught it, he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to her cheek. She smiled to herself.

Henry watched the two of them. He didn't say anything, but Carol could see something in his expression. He was trying to read them. Knowing the truth as he now knew it, he was trying to come to terms with things. He was trying to understand what each touch, gesture, and expression meant.

Carol offered him a smile. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure you don't mind coming with me?" She asked. "I can drive the horses on my own, you know."

"You need someone to look out for you," Henry said.

Carol laughed to herself and Henry's face finally broke from his stern expression to give way to a little joviality.

"I was taking care of myself a long time before you came into my life," Carol offered.

"Mom..." was all that Henry offered, the word coming out with a bit of laughter attached to it. He didn't say anything else. He turned and immediately walked around, crawling onto the wagon. Ezekiel offered Carol a jacket that he'd carried tossed over his shoulder.

"It's getting chilly," he said. "It'll be colder on the wagon. You're not fully recovered. The least you can do is try to keep as well as possible."

Carol smiled at him and thanked him quietly. He held it out for her and she let him help her put it on, though she was fully capable of dressing herself. He caught her by the upper part of the arms and squeezed her muscles.

"I can go with you if you want," he said.

Carol glanced at Jerry. They would tell the Kingdom together, but this wasn't the time and it wasn't the way for the Kingdom to learn about their little charade.

"I think it's better if you don't," Carol said. "It would be hard for you."

"I could do it if you needed me to," he offered.

"It would make things more difficult," Carol said. "If you need Henry here..." 

"Henry wants to go," Ezekiel said. "He won't hear otherwise."

Carol nodded.

"We'll make it before dark," Carol said.

"If you see that you won't," Ezekiel said, "stop somewhere. Don't take chances."

"I won't," Carol said. "Not with Henry."

"And other precious cargo," Ezekiel offered.

Carol felt her cheeks run warm.

"That too," she said.

"It looks to be a clear day," Ezekiel said. "But if it should rain, seek shelter. Don't stay out in the elements too long. You're not fully recovered."

"I'm well," Carol assured him. "But we'll take cover."

Ezekiel leaned forward and Carol allowed him to peck her lips before she accepted the warm hug that he offered her. Then she bid farewell to Jerry and started to climb onto the wagon. With Henry reaching for her hand to pull her up and Ezekiel boosting her from behind, she had no chance of falling off the side of the wagon in her ascent.

"Henry—take care of your mother," Ezekiel offered.

"If she'll let me," Henry offered with a laugh.

Even though she would normally drive the team herself, Carol let Henry take the reins. She sat back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the slight chill in the air as they started out of the Kingdom with Henry driving.

She'd woken up that morning with a heaviness in her chest—a heaviness that had been there for a very long time—but, suddenly, she was feeling lighter than she could recall having felt in a while.

She slid over, closer to her son on the wagon's seat. This wasn't his first time visiting Daryl—even if he'd never known the nature of their relationship before—and Carol trusted that he could remember where to go for at least the next little while.

This time, she could just enjoy getting there.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**Just a reminder that I don't watch the show beyond the occasional peek at something on Tumblr so I don't claim for anyone to be in-character for the current season.**

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Sometimes Carol found Daryl on the road as he returned to his camp from scrounging up supplies. Other times, she found him simply spending his time at the camp. Those times, he usually seemed to be lost in some kind of deep and long-lasting contemplation. Sometimes, when she found him like that, she asked him what was on his mind. Other times, she didn't because she already knew that life had given them both a great deal to think about. The good thoughts, she didn't want to interrupt. The bad thoughts, she didn't want to force him to say out loud.

In those moments, Carol didn't mind just being quiet with Daryl. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, even if he never put his appreciation into words.

This trip, she found him relatively close to his camp, but he was still walking just on the edge of the somewhat worn road. In his hooded cloak—worn to ward off the residual chill of a winter that hadn't yet released its hold on the world—and carrying a large bundle of firewood, Daryl really did look like the Wildman that Ezekiel teased that he was.

"Going our way?" Carol called out to him as soon as she recognized him. He turned around quickly to glare at whoever would interrupt his solitude—fully prepared to turn her away—but then he smiled as soon as he recognized her.

Without her having to give the command, Henry pulled the reins and stopped the horses from moving forward. The wagon rocked as it came to a stop.

"Get on," Carol said. "We'll give you a ride."

"Unlike some people," Daryl responded, "I ain't got too fancy to use my feet."

He only wanted to give Carol a hard time, though. He wasn't sincere, and she knew it because he was already making his way to the wagon. They waited while he put his bundle in the wagon and crawled up, and then Carol touched Henry's arm to let him know that they were ready to continue on their way to the camp.

Daryl didn't say anything in the wagon, and Carol didn't press him to talk. They all rode along in a relatively comfortable silence that was only broken when Carol had to give Henry directions to make sure that he entered Daryl's camp in the proper way so that they could pen and protect the horses from any Walkers that might stumble near and avoid the traps that Daryl had set for them.

When they reached the camp, Daryl got down with the firewood and offered little more than a grumbled thanks before he started going about his normal routine for the evening. Carol knew it well by now. She wasn't unaccustomed to the way that Daryl lived his life, even if she did actually prefer living in the Kingdom to the unnecessary level of "roughing it" that Daryl preferred now that he'd removed himself entirely from their various communities.

Carol stayed in her place on the wagon's seat for a few moments, and Henry followed suit. Daryl's immediate concern was starting a fire. He'd started so many of them in the small fire pit that he could do it quickly and impressively. He'd barely begun to construct the first layers of the fire before the flame was already climbing upward and growing into more than the tiny spark it had begun as. Daryl stoked it and strategically added wood to the fire to make it grow and keep it burning for a while. The extra firewood he stacked just far enough away that it wouldn't accidentally catch fire, but not so far that he'd have to go a great distance to continue feeding the flames.

When he straightened up from his work with the fire, he poured out the contents of a pot that was possibly holding some remnants of some meal or some stagnated water, and then he finally turned to address Carol and Henry.

If Carol didn't know him as well as she did, she might have taken his expression to heart. He practically glowered at them.

"You just come to sit on the wagon and watch me?" Daryl asked. "Or you actually intendin' on stayin'?"

Carol smiled to herself.

"We'll stay," she said. "It looks like there might be a storm, anyway."

"If it's like the past couple days..." Daryl said, but he never finished.

Daryl's camp was set up perfectly for Carol and Henry to visit any time they wanted. Since the very first time that she'd brought Henry, the second, smaller, tent had appeared. It always seemed maintained now. Daryl's tent was larger and slept two quite easily. Both of the tents were nice enough to keep out the elements, and Carol was sure they'd stand up to a storm since Daryl lived in the camp almost full-time.

The only time Daryl ever slept away from the camp was when he came to visit her. When he came, the two of them retired to the little cabin that she'd called home for some time. It was only a short distance from the Kingdom, but it gave them privacy.

Henry quickly got down off the wagon in the overly-enthusiastic way that he normally did. Like any young man, he was full of energy and he always had to do things in the biggest and showiest way he could. Rather than climb down, he leapt down from the wagon and landed solidly on his feet. Before Carol could even make a move to climb down from the wagon, Henry had circled around to her side and offered his hands up to her to help her as she climbed down.

She didn't truly need the help, but Henry would be on edge. He'd know that she was a little weaker than she had been before—thanks to the illness that she'd feared would rob her of what she hoped would be some years more of life—and he'd want to protect her from accidentally falling to the ground in case it might complicate things with the child she was carrying. Despite biological parentage, and despite any feelings he had to deal with about the reveal of Carol and Ezekiel's arrangement, Henry considered the little one his sibling.

Carol allowed Henry to wrap his hands around her ribcage and help her as she found her way to the ground. She thanked him with a smile and quick kiss on the cheek that made his face run red. He glanced in Daryl's direction like he wanted to see if Daryl had noticed the kiss and might ridicule him for letting his mother kiss him in public.

Daryl was watching them. He did see the kiss, but he didn't ridicule Henry. Instead, he chewed at his cuticle—a sure sign that something about the gesture had made him uncomfortable. Something about seeing Carol with Henry always made Daryl at least a little bit uncomfortable, though he'd never actually explained it to her when she'd asked him what it was.

As soon as she was on her feet, Carol straightened her clothes and asked Henry to get their things. He knew that she shared the tent with Daryl, and he knew the smaller single tent was for him. He didn't have to ask. This time, though, he would know that the arrangement wasn't to give him privacy so that he wasn't sleeping near his mother or changing in the same tent with her. The single tent wasn't for his benefit as much as it was for theirs. Still, he didn't say anything about it—not yet. He simply went about getting their things out of the wagon and moving them to the tents.

"Blankets is kinda clean," Daryl said. "With the rain I ain't had a chance to wash 'em in a couple days."

"We've slept on worse," Carol said. "I remember the one time we came in the summer and left with fleas." She laughed to herself. "It took us weeks to get rid of all of them."

"Your King prob'ly ain't appreciated you infestin' his castle with fleas," Daryl said.

Carol walked closer to the fire where Daryl was doing something of an odd pacing move that kept him busy even though he clearly hadn't thought of exactly what he wanted to do next. She didn't miss the bite in his voice. He didn't want her to miss it. He wanted it to sting.

Ezekiel accepted Daryl. It had been laid out from the start the way that she felt about Daryl.

Daryl accepted Ezekiel only because he liked that Carol had the stability and the security of the Kingdom and her relationship with the man who called himself King.

Carol felt that Daryl wanted more, but he was too afraid to admit it. Even when she'd asked him, he'd denied it. He was always too afraid to admit it.

She might think that he really didn't want more, but if that were true, then she felt that he wouldn't ever be bothered by her past or current relationships. The fact that he could be, at times, sensitive, made her feel like he must have some feelings that he wasn't being entirely honest about.

Maybe he was afraid she'd say "no," or maybe he was afraid that he had nothing to offer her. Carol didn't pretend that she could read all of Daryl's thoughts. Whatever the reason, he didn't want her all to himself, but he didn't exactly relish the thought of anyone else having her.

She had told him, before, the details of how her relationship with Ezekiel was. She'd promised him that the relationship wasn't physical between them. And it never would be—if that's how Daryl wanted it.

But she was starting to feel a churning in her gut that made her want to demand more from Daryl. There was an inexplicable urgency that was beginning to grow in her, and she felt like demanding something from him—even if it wasn't her place to demand anything from Daryl.

Something inside her made her feel like it was time to make a proverbial stand—one way or another.

"We all dealt with the fleas," Carol said.

"Too cold for the fleas right now," Daryl said. He picked up a stick that he might toss on the fire. Instead of tossing it on the fire, though, he turned it over in his hands and stared at Carol. The way he was looking at her almost made her feel uncomfortable and she started to look around for something she might do to break the trance.

"Where's Dog?" Carol asked.

"He's around," Daryl said. "It's about that time that he goes out—lookin' for somethin' to eat."

"When's the last time you ate?" Carol asked.

"Dog ate yesterday," Daryl said.

"I wasn't asking about him," Carol said. "When's the last time you ate?"

Daryl sucked his teeth. He shrugged his shoulders. He studied the wood that he was neither truly committed to keeping nor to tossing in the fire.

"Day or two," he said.

"No game?" Carol asked.

"Ain't cleared the traps," he said. He looked at her again with that piercing stare. Carol squared herself, ready to take the impact of the look's intensity. Eventually Daryl would get around to explaining it.

"I can fix something," Carol said. "With whatever you've got on hand."

"Bound to be somethin' in the traps," Daryl said. "I imagine you've got past splittin' a can of beans three ways."

Carol laughed to herself. She thought she saw a hint of a smile on Daryl's face as he recalled a little of the hardships that they'd seen on the road. The smile didn't last long, though, before he let it drop. The concerned expression returned to his features.

"I can still do it," Carol said, "if the need arises."

"Look at'cha," Daryl said. "I reckon they feed you alright at the Kingdom."

Carol felt a little struck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"You ain't been missin' too many meals," Daryl said. "That's what it means."

Carol swallowed. Daryl hadn't ever been the smoothest person ever. He did a great deal of biting his tongue and swallowing down his thoughts, but when they came out they were usually quite blunt. He wasn't too concerned about hurting people's feelings. From what Carol remembered of his brother, Merle, though, that might have been a family trait.

She put her hands on her hips.

"I guess it's more obvious than I even thought," she said.

Daryl laughed to himself. His mood visibly lightened. He toyed with the piece of wood he was holding.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "A little weight ain't never hurt nobody. Especially not these days. Just means your King's doin' a good job of providin' for his Kingdom, I guess. Means—things are goin' well. They can afford for everyone to eat good."

Carol jumped when she heard Henry loudly clear his throat behind her.

"Mom?" He called, more quietly than he should have if he genuinely needed to get her attention. Carol looked over her shoulder at him. He looked a little sheepish. "I think—I'm going to go and check some of the traps."

"You remember where they are?" Carol asked.

Henry nodded his head. Carol nodded in response.

"Just don't go too far," she said.

"I'll stay close enough to hear you," Henry promised.

"Good idea," Daryl said. "I can cook us up somethin'. Make sure you don't leave here determined you ain't—that'cha ain't never comin' back 'cause I don't feed you like His Majesty does."

Henry was gone before Daryl even finished speaking. He lit out of camp like one of the jackrabbits that he was hoping to go and collect from the traps.

Carol turned back to Daryl and swallowed down against the feeling of nerves and stomach acid rising up in her throat.

"Daryl—I haven't gained weight from—from eating too much," Carol said. "In fact—I've been ill. It's why I've been gone so long this time. I lost a good bit of weight."

Daryl laughed nervously. Carol could tell by the fidgeting of his hands that he was nervous. She could tell by the way he searched for something to focus his eyes on before he returned them back to her.

"You well now," he said. It was half question and half answer. He visibly relaxed when Carol nodded her head. She might not feel the best she'd ever felt, but that wasn't really what Daryl was asking. He would want to know if she was well enough that he didn't have to worry about losing her. Very little else would matter to him because he would see any minor illness as something that could be overcome. He looked visibly relieved with her nod. He laughed to himself. This time it was less nervous than before. "Don't fool yourself," he said. "You mighta lost it, but you done OK in makin' it back up."

Carol swallowed again.

"It's not fat," Carol said. "It's—a baby, Daryl."

Daryl stared at her. She saw a lifetime of different emotions flash quickly across his face in rapid succession. He landed finally on something that appeared to be anger. It was a common emotion of Daryl's when he seemed unable or unwilling to process any other. He tossed the stick of wood at the fire with enough force that, upon striking, it sent up a shower of sparks into the air.

"So you bring your son—his son—and his...his..." Daryl didn't say it. He almost looked like he choked on the thought. Maybe there was even the expression of someone who thought they might be sick. "Damn near a family reunion. All that's missin' is the King himself."

"Daryl—you don't have any right to be mad at me," Carol said, suddenly irritated by his reaction. She'd given him ample opportunity to be everything to her. Far more than Ezekiel would ever be. He'd even given her his blessing to marry Ezekiel and begin the life that had become common to all of them.

"Except you fuckin' lied to me!" Daryl growled. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Very few times in her life had Daryl rushed her like that—his finger coming up to point in her face and his lips drawn back in a snarl. "You lied to me! You said you weren't fuckin' him! That's what'cha told me. Said—you an' me...it was different!"

Carol might have flinched away from him at one point in her life. She might have moved to cover her face. She didn't flinch away from him this time. She held her body still and prepared for any possible blow. Her expression must have given away more than she wanted.

Daryl almost instantly relaxed.

"I wouldn't hit you," he said.

"And I wouldn't lie to you," Carol said. "It seems—we both still have a lot to learn. We've got some trust left to build."

"Wouldn't lie to me," Daryl grumbled. He walked away two steps and turned around, practically rushing back to her. "Wouldn't lie to me! But'cha did! You just said..."

"I said I was pregnant," Carol said quickly, interrupting Daryl. "I never said it was his. It isn't his. It couldn't be. I didn't lie to you. And—before you ask—there's nobody else."

Carol watched Daryl's face. He stared at her, the same angry expression on his features, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, without his expression changing and without saying anything, he turned and practically staggered away from her—down to the bank where his camp met the lake. Carol watched him as he stood there, looking out over the water, almost as if the conversation had never taken place and he was alone at the camp.

Carol didn't mind sharing silence with Daryl when he needed it, so she simply walked over to one of the logs near the fire and sat down to wait him out—entirely confident that Henry, who was no doubt quite close by and had probably been monitoring, from a hidden location, Daryl's reaction up to this point—would conveniently be gone for however long it took for Daryl to want to talk about things.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I'm not pretending anyone is "in character" for the current run of things. I don't even know what constitutes in character at this point. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"It's gonna rain," Daryl said. It was the first thing that he'd said in a long while and it snatched Carol out of the quiet contemplation into which she'd fallen. She was almost embarrassed to even admit to herself that she'd very nearly fallen asleep on the piece of log that she was using as a seat near the low burning fire.

"What?" She asked. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but she had absolutely expected something different than what she'd heard, so she sought clarification to find out if he'd actually said something about the rain or if she had dozed off and simply dreamed it.

"It's gonna rain," Daryl said, erasing any doubt that she might have. "Ground gets damp. Temperature still drops at night. You don't look a hundred percent. You ain't strong yet. Not like you oughta be. Still sick. You ain't had no business leavin' the Kingdom to come out here an' try to catch your death of pneumonia."

"I'm well enough," Carol said. "I'm not contagious."

"That's not what I was worried about," Daryl offered.

"The tents are dry," Carol said.

"Yeah. Fine. They keep the rain from fallin' on you," Daryl said. "But the ground still gets damp an' cold."

Carol knew that this wasn't really about the cold or the dampness, but that's what Daryl needed it to be about for the moment. He wasn't good at direct conversation. He never had been. He would get there—and he always did—but he sometimes had to take the long way around before he talked himself into saying what was really on his mind.

Carol had seen it before, more than once. She knew his secrets. He knew hers. They'd learned how to talk to each other. Carol spoke Daryl's language fluently, and she knew how to be patient. She knew how to give him the time and the space that he needed. She knew, once he was settled, he'd speak as openly and as freely as anybody else—just as long as he was ready to live up to the truth of whatever he had to say.

If Daryl needed to talk about the cold and the dampness for a bit, Carol could talk about it.

"We have a few tarps and blankets," Carol said. "They're in the wagon. We packed them just in case there was a storm that stopped us before we got here. We thought we could make a camp somewhere for the night if we had to. Henry can help you make sure that we're all set for the night when he gets back with whatever was in your traps."

Henry had been gone a while, but Carol had the gut feeling that he was close by. If she scanned the trees with enough care, she might be able to find him. He wasn't that great at camouflaging himself. He hadn't made it to the traps—not yet. He was probably close enough to hear most of what was said. He wouldn't actually go and check the traps until he was satisfied that things were going well enough at Daryl's camp.

Henry trusted Daryl, but he was protective. He knew enough about Carol's past to make him feel like he had some role that required him to protect her. It wasn't true, of course, but it was part of who he was. It was part of what would, someday, make him a great man for some lucky woman, so Carol let him nurture that protective side of himself so that, when he married, he would know how he wanted to treat his wife.

Daryl glared at Carol at her mention of tarps and blankets out the back of their wagon. His features softened, then, and he gnawed his lip before he turned his face away from her and started pacing around his camp. He picked up a stick of firewood and threw it at the fire. It sent sparks flying up into the air and Carol waved them away as a few of them came too close to comfort.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered.

"It's OK," Carol said. "You didn't mean to and—there's no harm."

"Didn't burn you?" Daryl asked. "Close to your face."

Carol laughed to herself.

"My face is fine," she assured him. "I'm fine."

"Could get cold," Daryl said. "Tonight. With the tents away from the fire."

"I'm sure we can keep from freezing to death," Carol said. "You survived the coldest parts of the winter so far. If we left now, we'd get caught in the storm. It would be worse than if we just stayed and rode it out here. But we could leave first thing in the morning for the house, Daryl. If it would make you feel better. Or—would you rather I just went back to the Kingdom and stayed there?"

Daryl stopped his pacing. He looked directly at her.

Carol wasn't much in the practice of making Daryl take a stand about his feelings. To date, he'd never actually said that he loved her with so many words—though he'd certainly said it in his own way. More than once he'd declared that he didn't want something more. He didn't want something like marriage. He didn't believe in commitment. He didn't want to feel like anyone belonged to him or like he belonged to anyone. He preferred to be alone.

Carol's company was nice. It was appreciated. It wasn't required.

And Carol knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was lying. It was obvious that his lies even hurt him. But she'd let him tell them because somewhere he thought the lies protected him.

What he didn't realize was that it was never her intention to hurt him. Even when she'd hurt him, she'd never done it intentionally.

Carol stood up. She ignored the stiffness that she felt in her body from the cold of the approaching evening and the dampness that was, as Daryl had predicted, seeping up from the piece of trunk.

"Would you have preferred if I hadn't come at all, Daryl?" Carol asked.

He stared at her. He brought his thumb up to gnaw at his cuticle. He looked around the camp like he was looking for something, but he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for.

He was looking for the words to say next, but they weren't there.

"You know—I like it when you come," Daryl said. "Miss seein' you."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Then why don't you welcome me?" Carol asked. "Make me feel like you want me here?"

Daryl swallowed, nodded his head, and stepped toward Carol. She didn't miss the deep frown that started to overtake his face. He wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes to the warmth of the embrace. She hugged him back as sincerely as she could.

"I'm sure we can find a way to keep warm," Carol offered before the hug broke. She smiled at him when he pulled away, and she accepted the soft kiss that he offered.

"You gonna get sick," Daryl said.

"I'll be fine," Carol said. "I feel stronger than I look." She smiled at him. "I meant what I said. The house is clean and warm. Dry. Comfortable. Quiet."

"Gonna rain tonight," Daryl said. "Can't get there until tomorrow."

"I'll do my best to survive one night if you promise me you'll come tomorrow," Carol said. "Just—for a few days?"

Daryl nodded his head. It was not a very committed nod, but it was enough. Daryl worried his lip and stared at Carol, so she simply stood there in front of him and waited him out.

"You say—it's a—I mean you...you sure that it's somethin'?" Daryl stammered.

Carol might not have known what he was talking about if he hadn't backed up a step and nervously eyed what little evidence of a belly she could brag about having. She smiled at him. She nodded her head and hummed in the affirmative."

"It's something, alright," Carol said. "It's a baby. Or—at least that's what I hope it is. If it isn't, I've got bigger problems than a night on the damp ground."

Daryl stared at her belly like he was trying to see through her shirt and through her skin to see the tiny forming human beyond.

"You say it's—that it's...mine?" Daryl asked.

"It's yours," Carol assured him. "I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Daryl flicked his eyes back up to meet hers.

"His Majesty know that?" Daryl asked. "That it ain't his?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"Ezekiel is imaginative," Carol said. "And he's creative. But he isn't delusional. He knows it isn't his because he knows that—he knows there's no way it could be his."

"And your Kingdom?" Daryl asked.

"For the time being, they assume that it's Ezekiel's," Carol said.

"Cause you told 'em so?" Daryl asked.

"We told them I was pregnant," Carol said. "We let them think what they wanted to think beyond that."

"What's he say about it?" Daryl asked.

Carol sucked in a breath and let it out.

"I came here to tell you. To talk to you. I came here to ask you to come back with me. You've been out here long enough, Daryl. If you don't want to live with people, I understand that. If you want to keep your distance, I understand that, too. But let's go back to the house. You'll take Dog and—you'll make the house your own. You'll have some privacy, but you can still come and go as you please among the communities."

"And you?" Daryl asked. "You'll be with him?"

"I thought you might tell me that," Carol said. She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you might tell me anything. What you think. What you want. If you don't want—this baby? If you don't want—me? The responsibility that comes with? I'll understand. It's a lot. And it's unexpected. Believe me. I know. I'm not sure I believe it yet. So if you don't want it—I'll understand. And Ezekiel will let me keep my home in the Kingdom and the baby—he'll raise it as his own. Just like he's done with Henry. If that's what you want, Daryl."

"King'll just—raise my kid like it was his own?" Daryl asked.

"If that's what you want," Carol said.

"What do you want?" Daryl asked.

"The same thing I've wanted for a very long time," Carol said.

"Which is?" Daryl asked.

"You to tell me what you want, Daryl," Carol said. She turned and walked away from him. She sat down on the stump where she'd sat before and reached her hands toward the fire to warm them. She glanced around, but she could see no sign of Henry in the surrounding trees. She hoped he had gone now to the traps so that he might return with meat in time for them to cook it before the rain came and put out their fire. She hoped he would have seen, by now, that Daryl wasn't going to threaten her. "I've told you before, Daryl, about my feelings. I've told you—how I feel. You've told me what you don't want. I guess—I want to know what you do want."

"And if I say I don't—want it?" Daryl asked.

"Then I go back to the Kingdom," Carol said. "And—I would still hope that you would come and live at the house. It's too much for you to live out here. You can't do this forever."

"That what you want me to say?" Daryl asked. "That I don't want it so you can go back to the Kingdom?"

"I want you to say what you mean," Carol said. "I'll deal with it, whatever you say, but I want to know that you mean it."

"The Kingdom is safe," Daryl said. "Protected. Got guards and good fences."

"It's as vulnerable as everywhere else to the right people at the right time," Carol said. "Don't try to keep me safe, Daryl. There's time for that—and I'm not interested in that right now. I just want to know what you want. What do you plan to do?"

"Where you gonna be?" Daryl asked.

"Wherever you want me to be," Carol said. "Wherever you decide I should be. I guess that's why I'm here. If—if I'm carrying a baby? Well—I am carrying a baby. If I'm going to have a baby? I need to think about that, Daryl. I have to think about that. I can't—go back and forth. So whatever you decide? It's what you decide. You know?"

Daryl considered it—or rather he contemplated the ground.

"We'll leave in the mornin' for the house," he said. Carol nodded her acceptance. "And then—I'll do my best to stay there. Pack my things tonight."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Whatever you need to make you comfortable there...we'll find it," Carol said. Daryl nodded his head. "Is that—what you want to do?"

"It's what I gotta do," Daryl said. "Like you said—you gonna have a baby an' all, you can't go traipsin' back and forth. Gotta settle somewhere."

"The house is a lot closer to the Kingdom," Carol said.

"It'll be good when Henry wants to visit," Daryl said. "Or—I don't know how it'll all work, but it'll be good. Better'n out here. Close enough for—when you wanna go visit. See your people. His Majesty. But—safer'n out here."

Carol's heart leapt around in her chest. She held her emotions under control, though.

"Does that mean you—don't think I should live in the Kingdom?" Carol asked.

Daryl shook his head at her.

"I ain't livin' in that house alone, Carol," he said.

Carol swallowed against the feelings that were threatening to choke off her air.

"I know you'll take Dog with you," Carol said.

"I weren't talkin 'about the dog."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Here we go, another chapter here.**

**Just a warning, I had to change the rating on this one. Sexual situations to follow.**

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Henry had returned with four rabbits—more than enough for a feast for three people and one dog.

Daryl had insisted on skinning the rabbits and preparing the food. He'd given Henry the task of using the tarps and blankets out of the back of the wagon to make sure that the tents would be dry if the rain came. The tarps, in particular, spread out in the bottom of the tents would help a little with the seepage that would come up from the ground.

Henry hadn't argued with Daryl's instructions, and he hadn't argued, either, when Daryl had mentioned in passing that they would be striking out for the house the next morning—just as soon as they'd had the opportunity. Henry hadn't said anything about it at all until he was in the larger tent with Carol and she was helping him arrange the tarps and blankets.

"I guess you told him," Henry said.

"I did," Carol said. "He could see it well enough, though, so I don't think I could have kept it a secret for long."

"Is the baby big?" Henry asked. "Or are you just...small?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess we'll say—maybe it's a bit of both."

"It worries Dad," Henry said. "I heard him say it to Jerry."

Carol nodded her head.

"And it'll probably worry Daryl," Carol said. "Men—sometimes don't know what to worry about. The ones that want to worry, I mean. And so they find something that they think they can fix. And they try to fix it. It's a way to show love. Just like—you wanted to hang around the camp in case I needed you to fix something with Daryl."

She could see on Henry's face that she'd guessed correctly. He looked a little sheepish.

"He did get angry," Henry said.

"He won't hurt me," Carol said. She reached for Henry and he came toward her and wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the embrace before she planted a kiss on the side of his head. "I promise. I'm not afraid of Daryl. He won't hurt me. He might—yell. And he might—disappear. But he's not going to hurt me. Not physically. And I appreciate your trying to protect me, but that's not your job. It's my job to protect you."

"I want to take care of you, too," Henry said.

"You do," Carol assured him.

"The tarps are—for you?" Henry asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

"And the blankets," Carol said. "Apparently I'm more susceptible to cold and damp now than I ever have been before."

"Daryl's idea?" Henry asked.

"Sort of," Carol said. "My idea to hold off some of his worry until we can get to the house tomorrow."

"It's probably better," Henry said. "Dad was worried about the cold, too. He worried it would make you—make you sick again. The rain."

"Everyone worries about the same things," Carol said. "Still—whether the cold or the rain is bad for me, we're all going to be warm and dry tonight. I'm leaving these extra blankets in your tent for you. We'll have body heat. You won't. But if you get cold—and I mean this—if you get too cold? You come and tell me."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Henry said with some laughter.

Carol pulled him to her and kissed the side of his head again. She smiled to herself when she felt the warm pressure of him pressing his hand to her belly.

"Still there?" She asked.

Henry affectionately rubbed her belly.

"You haven't said if you want a boy or a girl," Henry said.

"I've had both," Carol said. "And—I've loved both. Both are—wonderful. So whatever I get? I won't mind either way. The only thing I ask is that it's strong and it's healthy and—that's it. It's strong and it's healthy." She smiled at Henry. "You never said if you wanted a brother or a sister."

"Doesn't matter either way," Henry said. "Honestly? I just want what you want. I want you to be happy."

"Well, I am that," Carol assured him.

"Will he stay?" Henry asked.

"Will who stay?" Carol asked.

"At the house," Henry said. "Will Daryl stay?"

Carol nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah. He'd rather stay there than—come back to the Kingdom. And I think, maybe, that's for the best. It's close to the Kingdom, but..."

"But it's not as weird," Henry said.

"I guess you could say that," Carol said.

"What about Dad?" Henry asked.

Carol hummed at him.

"Your father and I will speak to the Kingdom," Carol said. "I'll continue to help him rule from—from outside the Kingdom."

"And you won't be married anymore," Henry said.

Carol shook her head.

"We won't," she said. "I understand if—you need to take some time to deal with that."

"He'll still love you," Henry said.

Carol nodded and smiled to herself.

"And I'll still love him," she assured Henry. "There are lots of different kinds of love, Henry. You'll learn that even more as you grown. The love I have for your father is very, very different than the love I have for Daryl—but it doesn't make it any less valuable. Love is always important. And it's always beautiful."

"Will I be able to—visit you?" Henry asked.

"Oh—sweetheart," Carol said, "my home is always your home. You can stay with me as much as you like. Daryl is never going to tell you that you can't."

"I want to be there—when the baby comes," Henry said.

Carol nodded at him.

"You can be," she said. "But—you may not want to be. Or—maybe you may not want to be entirely there. We have time to talk about that, though. The baby isn't coming tonight or anytime soon. Come on. We need to get your tent ready before the rain starts. Help me up. I may not be as young as I used to be."

Henry did help Carol up. He was happy about being able to offer her help in any capacity.

"We'll blame it on the baby," he said.

Carol laughed to herself. She brushed her fingers over the bump that Henry had so loving caressed earlier.

"You're right. We'll blame it on the baby and not at all on my old knees," Carol said. "Come on. I don't want you getting cold tonight. Everyone's worried about me and—I'm really just worried about you."

Henry laughed.

"You always are," he teased. "But I've got six blankets here, Mom, I think I'm going to be fine."

"Don't you tell me not to worry," Carol teased. "I'll worry if I want to. It's a mother's prerogative. And as long as I'm pregnant—I get to do what I want."

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Carol was so full that she'd spent at least an hour after she'd eaten just sitting and praying silently that her food settled and didn't insist on coming up again. Henry and Daryl had both pushed food at her until she'd eaten more in one meal than she'd eaten in most of the meals, combined, that she'd consumed since she'd gotten sick.

She was feeling settled, now, and content. The uncomfortable fullness had passed.

Outside, the rain was pouring down just as Daryl had predicted, but they were warm in the tent. The small camping lantern flickered at the side of the tent to keep them from being in absolute darkness. Daryl watched her as she peeled out of some of the excess pieces of clothing that she was wearing so that she could be comfortable enough to sleep. She burrowed her way out of her pants and took the washrag to rinse herself off with the water that he'd brought into the tent in a small bowl.

He called the baths "whore baths" and claimed they were mostly for hitting the high spots. He wasn't wrong, but it did the trick. Daryl had already washed off, and he was under the cover.

"You ain't gonna be cold?" He asked when Carol didn't put her pants back on.

"What do you have on under there?" Carol asked.

"Nothin'," Daryl admitted.

"Are you cold?" Carol asked.

"No," Daryl said.

"Me either," Carol said. "In fact—I have to admit that I'm feeling a little bit like a furnace these days."

"You done?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Carol said.

"Blow out the lamp?" He asked. She did what he asked her to do, and then she sat still a moment while her eyes adjusted. She felt Daryl's hand searching her out and, as soon as she took his hand, he tugged at her to lead her to where he was lying.

Daryl raised the side of the blanket and Carol moved around to slide under it. She slipped next to him and rested her head over his arm. He pulled her in closer to him and she gave him the kiss that he requested.

It felt good to be next to him again. It had been a long time—longer than she liked for it to be. She fought against the fast beating of her heart when her brain reminded her that, if he didn't change his mind in the morning, Daryl would be going to the little house. He'd be going there to stay. And Carol would be joining him.

And it almost made her dizzy, but she didn't want to scare him.

When his hand found her breast and massaged it, she moaned into his mouth. Her breasts were sore and tender, but she didn't want to discourage him, so she didn't say anything. She held her breath and bit her lip to swallow back her desire to protest his accidentally rough treatment of tissue he didn't know was more tender than usual. Finally, she leaned forward and whispered to him.

"Gentle," she said softly. "Please. It's so good...but gentle."

She kissed him and he softened his touch.

"Better?" He asked when their lips broke apart.

"Mmmm hmm," she hummed at him. She allowed her hands to trail over his body and she let her fingertips trace the familiar curves of his muscles and the soft skin of his scars.

He slipped his hand down and Carol felt his fingers slide from her breasts over the swell of her stomach. His warm hand stopped, palm flat, on her belly.

"Say something," she urged after a moment of stillness and silence.

"Mine?" He asked.

"Yours," Carol assured him. She covered his hand with her own.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Couldn't be more positive," Carol assured him.

"Does it—move yet?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed quietly.

"I'm sure it does," she said. "But—I can't feel it. So you can't either. Not yet." Daryl was quiet for a moment. "I understand if you—don't want to come back with me, Daryl. I do. But I wanted you to know about it. I wanted you to—just know. But even if you don't, Daryl, I need you to know that I do want this baby. And, if I can, I'm going to have it."

"Want you to have it," Daryl said. "If that's what you want."

"If you want to stay," Carol said. "If you don't want this...all of this. The commitment..."

Daryl slipped his hand out from under hers. He trailed it farther down. When he found her nub, he pressed it. Rubbed it beneath his fingertips. Carol sucked in a breath. Daryl continued to rub her. His lips sought hers and she panted into his mouth as he worked her carefully according to what he'd learned from her in the past. He'd learned that spot, in particular, got her attention.

"Mine," he said when their lips pulled away. This time it wasn't a question. It was a statement—strong and clear and with just enough force behind it that Carol understood he wanted her to confirm that she understood what he was saying.

She did understand.

"Yours," she breathed out.

In the darkness, Daryl shifted. Immediately, he was over her. He spread her legs apart. He must have been as blind as she was, but she felt him searching her out. She felt when he found what he was looking for. When his fingers found her and his tongue followed. She closed her eyes and let her mind explode with all the sensations that his sucking and lapping brought.

He would tell her he was no good at sex—and maybe she was no good at it either and so she knew no different—but she thought he was wonderful.

Her body was already shaking, rocked by one explosion of pure bliss that had stunned her senses for a second, when he took his position above her and pressed against her. She spread her legs a bit more to more comfortably accommodate him.

"Stop?" He asked.

"No," she breathed out. "Please. No."

Daryl accepted her invitation and he pressed into her. Carol let him have everything, from that moment, just as he wanted it. She moved her hips when she didn't feel they were practically pinned to the hard ground, and she accepted the speed and strength of Daryl's thrusts as they most suited him. He offered her his mouth and she swallowed up the satisfied noises that escaped him as he finally stilled upon finding his release.

He stayed where he was for a moment until he finally slipped free from her body. Carol would cuddle with him. She would enjoy the afterglow. He would fall asleep quickly, because he always did, and she would leave the blankets long enough to reliever herself in the bucket he'd brought in and tucked in the corner, and to wipe away what he had left behind—the same as she had, no doubt, the night they'd conceived the little one she now carried.

Her body felt satisfyingly sore after the encounter. Muscles had performed movements and adjustments that they hadn't made in some time. She would sleep well, still feeling his presence in more ways than one.

When Daryl settled down next to her, he pulled her over to him and kissed her mouth again before he kissed the side of her face.

"We'll leave for the house in the morning," Daryl said.

Carol swallowed. She smiled to herself and accepted his answer on the matter.

"You're sure?" She asked.

"Positive," Daryl responded.

"I'm glad," she said.

He kissed the side of her face again.

"Mine," he said once more. This time it came out with more reverence than it had the time before.

"Yours," Carol said.

"You're sure?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled to herself.

"Positive," she assured him.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**Thank you to those who prodded me to get back to this one! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Henry helped Daryl unload the wagon in virtual silence. There was a heaviness that came from things that needed to be said between them, but neither of them was ready to be the first to speak, so they kept themselves busy with their work and let the words wait as words would. The only words that they bothered to exchange were the ones that were absolutely necessary to identify the desired location of some item or another that was being unloaded.

At the Kingdom, Carol had exchanged a few words with Ezekiel—the man who called himself the king and, for years, had called himself Carol's husband. She and Ezekiel had, essentially, publicly dissolved their marriage with a speech to the people of the Kingdom which mostly involved Ezekiel speaking in some Shakespearean language—which Daryl was sure that most of the people probably didn't understand—while Carol stood beside him as a source of strength and support.

The only part of the whole thing that Carol even bothered to clarify at all was that there was absolutely no bad blood between she and Ezekiel. She assured the people of the Kingdom that she would still continue to help rule the Kingdom, and she would be there to help them when they needed her, even though she would be residing outside the Kingdom's fences in a place that everyone simply knew as "Carol's House."

Daryl almost didn't want to take her outside of the fences. He had most liked that she was with Ezekiel because he felt like the Kingdom—behind its guarded fences and gates—was one of the safest places she could be. Her status as queen, as well, would mean that the Kingdom guards would protect her with everything they had in them.

Daryl loved her enough that he was willing, without hesitation, to let another man love her to be sure that she was properly cared for and protected.

He hated, even now, to take her somewhere where he knew she wasn't as safe as she had been in the Kingdom. When she visited him in his camp, and during the few nights that they'd spent together at the little house throughout the years, he'd barely slept for the need to be sure that she remained safe through the night—until he could get her back behind the walls that he trusted to protect her from everything that he wasn't sure humans, alone, could shield her from. Now he wasn't sure how he was going to keep her safe for however long they ended up calling the little house home.

The little house, at least, was somewhat protected from Walkers by some decently strong fences. They'd been reinforced by Ezekiel's merry men, and Daryl had fully supported the practice, when he'd become aware that the older fences around the little house were beginning to decay and wouldn't hold strong for long. Despite its protection from Walkers, though, the little house was pretty open to attack by people who were smart enough to get over and around fences without simply having to try to go through them. They all knew that people were the real threat these days. Walkers were only a nuisance in the face of what they'd seen when dealing with others who dared to call themselves human.

Daryl didn't have any reason to leave the little house once everything had been brought into it off the wagon. He had very few possessions in the world and everything he had was on the back of the wagon. He didn't have anywhere to go or anything he needed to do. The farthest he might go was to the Kingdom if Carol needed something from there, or to the woods surrounding the little house to hunt meat to smoke in the smokehouse he intended to build as soon as they were settled.

Daryl had no reason to leave Carol alone and unprotected for any span of time, but, if he did, he'd already decided that he would take her back to the Kingdom.

Daryl didn't doubt in the least that Carol could protect herself. She was more capable than most of the men that had surrounded her since the world went to shit. In many ways, she was more equipped for survival in this world than even Daryl. She didn't need him to hold her hand and keep the bad guys away any more than she'd needed Ezekiel and his armed soldiers to hold the world at bay. She would be sure to tell him that, too, if he insisted that she did.

But everybody needed a little help sometimes and Carol wasn't too proud to accept the protection and care that was offered to her with the understanding that it was help and not something she couldn't do without. She let Ezekiel protect her—especially when Daryl made it a personal request as well—and she let Daryl protect her.

She understood, without him having to spell it out for her in so many words that he would have found difficult to string together, that his need to protect her was more about him than it was about her.

And now, the heavy feeling in his gut that he got when he thought about her being somewhere, exposed to the seemingly incessant cruelty of this world, was even heavier—and he had barely even begun to believe that the extra weight she carried was evidence of his child.

"That's the last of it," Henry said, putting down one of the boxes of Carol's things that she'd brought from the Kingdom.

"That's your Ma's," Daryl said.

"You wanted it somewhere else?" Henry asked.

"She prob'ly wants it in there," Daryl said. "In the bedroom."

"Never mind," Carol said, coming out of the kitchen. She carried a glass in each hand. "We'll get it later. Come drink some water, Henry. Daryl. You're both sweating and you don't want to get dehydrated. Dinner won't be a feast. The cabinets are a little low. But it'll keep us all from starving tonight." Carol offered Daryl and Henry both a glass of water. Henry drained half of his and wiped his mouth with his arm before Daryl had even fully registered that he should consume the liquid. Henry put the glass down on the piece of furniture next to him like he might return to it in a moment and drain it entirely.

"I'll bring you some food from the Kingdom tomorrow," Henry said.

"You don't have to do that," Carol said.

"We can get our own food," Daryl said.

"Dad's going to insist," Henry said. "We've got plenty and there's nowhere else out here where you're going to get fruit and vegetables before winter."

"We could go on a run," Carol said.

"We've cleared towns up to thirty miles away," Henry said.

"Then we'll go forty," Carol said with a smirk.

"We ain't doin' no such thing," Daryl interrupted quickly. Carol looked at him and he shook his head. "We'll take the food. We appreciate it. Got some things to get set up around here to get the house ready to withstand the winter an' we don't got the resources to go days in either direction just looking for food if there's food to be had at the Kingdom."

"It's not the Kingdom's responsibility to feed us," Carol said.

"You heard Dad," Henry said. "You're still the queen and—well—I'm still the prince. That's still my…brother or sister." He glanced at Daryl. Daryl's stomach twisted. He suddenly understood it all. He felt it all. He felt the anxiety that was practically palpable as it radiated out of Henry. "Unless—you've changed your mind about that, too."

Daryl's chest ached at the words and Daryl knew that, even though Henry was clearly having to come to terms with a great deal, he couldn't have hurt Carol more if he'd hit her in the face with the fire poker.

She frowned deeply and swallowed. She stepped toward Henry and immediately pulled him into the tightest hug that she could.

"Don't you say that," she said, some bite behind her words. "I don't ever want to hear you say anything like that again. You understand? You know that—I'd never change my mind about you. Never. I can't. You're my son—my—you're my Henry. And I'm your Mom—if you haven't changed your mind about me."

Having the accusation somewhat turned around on him must have struck Henry. He squeezed Carol. She wobbled with him and, for a moment, Daryl instinctively reached his hand out to touch her arm and steady her in case they were both at risk of toppling to the floor.

"I love you," Henry declared, his voice muffled by the fact that he'd buried his face in the crook of Carol's neck.

"I love you," Carol said. She pushed him away just enough to kiss the side of his face and Daryl saw the dragon tears dropping out of her eyes when she blinked. "And—don't you ever, ever, let me hear you say something like that again. I'll love you forever."

"And Dad?" Henry asked.

"I'll love him forever, too," Carol said. "Just like I told you. Like I told him. There are lots of different ways to love, Henry. Even Daryl knows that."

Henry pulled away from his mother enough to half-glare at Daryl. Daryl didn't hold it against the boy. He imagined that all of this was a bit of a shock and an adjustment to him. Daryl couldn't imagine how he would have felt in Henry's place—mostly because his own mother had been gone by then and his old man had never meant that much to him anyway.

And unlike Henry—who had been orphaned—there hadn't been anybody who'd been looking to adopt Daryl and give him the kind of love and support that Carol and Ezekiel offered Henry.

Henry meant the world to Carol and that meant that Daryl would do anything for him. He hadn't been able to save Sophia for her. Sophia had been lost and he hadn't been able to get her back for Carol.

He wouldn't let her lose Henry and, if he had any control at all over such a thing, he wouldn't let her lose the baby she carried, either—not even if it had been Ezekiel's child.

"Your Ma ain't lyin'," Daryl offered. "She loves your Dad. Just different, I guess."

"Just different," Carol said with a sigh.

"Like a friend?" Henry asked.

"Like a very good friend," Carol assured him. She reached out and smoothed his hair like he was a small boy instead of an almost grown man. He allowed her the affection. "And I love you like a son and I love—I already love this baby. Like my baby. And I love Daryl…" She stopped and looked at Daryl. She stared at him, hard. He might have worried that she didn't know what to say. He might have worried that she wasn't sure how she loved him. But that wasn't how she was looking at him. She was looking at him like she was afraid. For a moment, Daryl might have sworn that Henry resembled her. He'd seen that face only recently. She was looking at him like she feared that he might just disappear. She looked like she feared that the wrong words—or even saying them out loud—might send Daryl running out the door of the little house to disappear into the woods forever.

He nodded, gently, to give her encouragement and to let her know he wasn't going anywhere. As surely as she would remain a fixture in Henry's life, he would remain in her life—even if he hadn't exactly told her that before. There was even more, now, that bound them together.

"Go ahead," Daryl said softly.

Carol nodded her understanding and a few more of the over-sized dragon tears dropped from her eyes as she smoothed Henry's hair under her palm again.

"I love Daryl like something else entirely," Carol said.

"More than a friend?" Henry supplied.

Carol laughed to herself.

"Like much more than a friend," Carol said. "And I'm sorry that hurts you."

"It doesn't," Henry said. "Not really." He hesitated a moment. "It won't. I want you to be happy."

"Then we got somethin' in common," Daryl offered. "Maybe a couple things."

"And this is your brother or sister," Carol said. "Always."

Daryl nodded his head slightly when Henry looked at him.

"And this is your house," Carol said. "I meant what I said. You can stay whenever you like. You can stay tonight."

"I need to get the wagon back," Henry said. "And the horses."

Carol frowned and nodded her head.

"Tomorrow night, then," Carol said.

"I think—I need to stay with Dad for a while," Henry said. "In the Kingdom."

"I understand," Carol offered. Daryl wasn't sure if she really did or if she was just saying that for the benefit of the boy.

"But—I'll bring you food," Henry said. "Tomorrow. In the morning. Promise you'll take it."

Carol caught his face and turned it so that she could kiss his cheek again.

"I'll take it," she said. "But—if you're leaving, you better go on now. I don't want you out in the woods after dark. You understand?"

Daryl watched her as she pushed Henry toward the door. He listened to her as she half-heartedly scolded the boy about staying up too late and declared she loved him again just after the sharp flick of the reins. Daryl took the glass that Henry had used and his own to the kitchen.

He would be there to listen, too, when Carol came back and was ready to talk.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"He can stay as much as he wants," Daryl said. "That room—what the hell's it for if it isn't for Henry to stay there? He can move in if he wants."

Daryl hadn't really thought about Henry living with them. He hadn't really thought about them living together, honestly. It was all happening very quickly and very much without him having had a lot of time to think about any of it.

But as soon as Carol had sat down on the couch, with tears streaming down her face that she was trying to mop up with her palms, Daryl hadn't had to think much at all before he'd decided that he'd give her whatever she wanted—he'd give her anything to take that sadness away.

When he sat down beside her, she'd curled into him and practically folded herself up in his lap. He was happy to hold her, there, until she felt she could rise from her position. He was happy to listen to her as she poured out her feelings—feelings that she declared were probably crazy and unfounded.

Because he knew, and he remembered, everything she'd told him. He remembered the tearful confessions in his tent. He remembered holding her while she fought with her nightmares like she was fighting demon possession.

And if she felt afraid that she might lose again, he wanted to comfort her until she felt better.

"He'll stay with Ezekiel to protect him," Carol breathed out. "He feels like he has to. Like he can. To take care of him. To care for him. Because I hurt him and Henry might not forgive me for that."

"He's got nothin' to forgive you for," Daryl said. "You ain't been nothin' but honest with—with Ezekiel. Right? The whole damn time."

"But I wasn't honest with Henry," Carol said.

"And he's gonna get over that," Daryl said. "You ain't never done a thing to hurt him. Never. Not once. He's gonna get over the fact that he's got some hurt feelings 'cause things weren't exactly what he thought."

"He was fine while we were going to your camp," Carol said. "He was fine—after we talked to him. Ezekiel and I talked to him and he said he understood."

Daryl rubbed his hands over Carol's arms and held her close to him. Her tears were slowing down. She was calming. And he found the weight of her bearing down on him strangely soothing. He would stay there all night if that was what she wanted.

"Maybe it was just—seein' us in the house," Daryl said. "You know? Seein' it. Like it's all different an' he can see it for the first time. But he loves you and that ain't gonna change. You're his mom. You heard him. He's gonna be here tomorrow. Bright and early in the morning, probably. And when he comes, you just remind him that he can stay when he wants. Whenever that is."

"He might believe it more if—you were to say it," Carol said. "Really—say it and mean it?"

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Yeah. Sure thing. He comes and—I'll talk to him. I'll tell him. He's welcome here when he wants to come. He can stay—long as he wants."

"Thank you," Carol said softly. She rubbed her face against his chest. She probably dried her tears and snot on his chest. He didn't mind one way or another. "Thank you," she repeated.

"Yeah—any time," Daryl said. "Anything."

Carol drew in a deep breath and she sighed, blowing it out. She relaxed deeper into Daryl, if that were possible, and Daryl rubbed her arm again.

"You feelin' better?" Daryl asked.

"I just—don't want to lose anyone anymore," Carol said.

Daryl hummed at her.

"And you ain't," he assured her. "Ain't—ain't nobody going anywhere. Not me or Henry or…hell even Ezekiel. Told him that even he weren't goin' nowhere. Dog over there—he's in it for the long haul. Furry bastard's happy as shit to be a house dog."

At mention of his name, Dog lifted his head and his tail thumped loudly on the floor. He was clearly content with his new situation.

Daryl waited until he was pretty sure that Carol had calmed. He waited until she was quiet and content. Then he patted her hip where he could reach it.

"You said they was food in them cabinets?" He asked.

"Vegetables," Carol said.

"Wood in that stove your king found you?" Daryl asked.

"Stop," Carol said, sitting up. She smiled at him, though.

Ezekiel had sent scouts out scouring the area for a wood stove. One of the last times that he'd been in the little house visiting Carol, she'd been so excited to show him the stove that he'd joking told her he was afraid that he was losing her to Ezekiel forever. It seemed the King had found a way to speak directly to Carol's heart. He'd given her a quiet place to run away with a pump out back and wood-burning stove.

"Giving you a hard time," Daryl said. "But—you ain't eat since breakfast. And I know you like your meals regular. His highness got you spoiled like that. Let me know if I need to grab you some wood while I'm pumpin' a couple buckets of water and snaggin' us a lil' meat for tonight's table."

"It's late," Carol said.

"And squirrels are all over the damned yard," Daryl told her. "I won't go nowhere. Just—do you need wood?"

"The wood box is full," Carol assured him.

"Then you start warmin' up them vegetables," Daryl said. "If you OK to do that?"

"I'm fine," Carol assured him. He nodded his understanding that she was telling him the truth. She'd needed to get some of it out, and she'd needed to seek a little reassurance, but she was doing better.

"Then you start warmin' up them vegetables," Daryl repeated. "And I'ma be back in a few minutes with the rest of dinner."

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The two oil lamps lit up the bedroom brightly enough that Daryl might have been convinced it was daylight. He wasn't accustomed to that much light at night. Still, it was a soft and flattering light because Carol looked beautiful in it. She looked beautiful in any light.

And Daryl was still wrapping his mind around the fact that this wasn't just a night or two. Not only was she not heading back to the Kingdom and was he not heading back to his now-dismantled camp, but Carol would probably feel betrayed and truly abandoned if he were to even suggest such a parting.

He'd lied awake more nights than he could count and thought about what it might be like if he lived an honest kind of life with Carol—the kind of life that maybe didn't even exist anymore—where they were some sitcom kind of couple with absolutely no problems that they couldn't overcome together.

His stomach ached with the strange mixture of anxiety and calm that came in waves when he thought that, maybe, they were as headed for that as they ever could be.

They were there together in the little house that they would call home, and Dog was sleeping just outside the bedroom door because he'd decided, on his own, that was where he wanted to sleep for the night. Things were already dropping into place.

Daryl had a straight view of the bathroom from the bed. He'd already washed off in the water warmed over the fire where Carol used to cook before she'd gotten a wood stove for the kitchen. Carol was in the bathroom, now, washing off by the light of another oil lamp.

Daryl watched her. His view of her was perfect.

He hadn't seen her naked, quite that clearly, in a long time.

She'd braided her hair back to keep it out of her face and it fell over her shoulder as she straightened up and dried off after her bath. Daryl watched her dry off and only called out to her when he saw her start to unfold the nightgown she'd taken into the bathroom.

"Leave it," he said.

"You don't want me to put it on?" Carol asked.

"You gonna need it?" Daryl asked. "Because—I didn't put nothin' on."

Carol did leave the nightgown. She blew out the bathroom lamp and walked to the foot of the bed. She unashamedly stood there, naked, with her hands on the brass bar at the bottom of the bed.

"Are you expecting something to happen?" She asked.

Daryl reached over and patted the mattress beside him.

"Nothin' you don't want to happen," he said.

She left her spot at the foot of the bed and walked around to her side of the bed to stand there for a moment. She smiled at him. She let just her fingertips touch the side of the bed. He licked his lips and shifted around to sit up on his elbow.

"I haven't seen you like this since the last time we were here," Daryl said.

"It's been a while," Carol said.

"Last time—it was cold," Daryl said. "Had to sleep on the mattress on the floor in front of the fire."

"Almost a year," Carol said. "It's getting cold again. It won't be long before we might need to move to the living room to be warm."

Daryl reached and flicked the blanket back. Talking about preparing for the winter made his stomach flip a little. It made him think about how real it was. And even though he was already welcoming in the idea of an entirely different life—the kind he'd only dared to even dream about before—it still made him nervous to be facing it head-on.

"We got blankets," Daryl said. "And we'll move the mattress when you're ready. Don't stand out there in the cold no longer than you got to, though."

Carol smiled at him. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Because I'm not fully healed yet?" She asked.

"That," Daryl agreed. "But—because you're too damned skinny. I thought your king was feedin' you but you really ain't much more than bones. You prob'ly freezin' to death."

Carol laughed to herself, but she did get into bed and slid under the cover. Rather than stay on her side, she immediately crossed the mattress and worked her way as close Daryl's body as she could. He welcomed the closeness and somewhat curled around her to bring her in even a touch closer. He kissed her and she returned it.

"I'm not skinny," she said. "I'm fat, remember?"

Daryl slipped his hand down and found the swell of her belly. He rested his palm over it and he felt the muscles beneath her skin bunch.

"Was that…?" He asked.

"Me," Carol said softly. "It's too soon for anything else. I think."

"This ain't fat," Daryl said. "You ain't fat. Couldn't see it with—with the potato sacks you been wearin'."

Carol laughed to herself.

"My clothes are comfortable," Carol said. "But if you don't like them…"

"You wear whatever you want," Daryl said. "I'ma still—still think you…ya know…pretty an' all in a potato sack. So, if that's what'cha like…I don't care."

Carol smiled at him. She nodded her head.

"Maybe—sometime when we're in the Kingdom or somewhere, you could go through the clothes," Carol said. "Find something you'd like for me to wear."

"And you'd wear it?" Daryl asked. Carol nodded. "Anything I wanted?"

"Well, at least—here," Carol said. "In the house. For you. If you'd like."

"I might like that," Daryl agreed.

"But just remember—for a little while? Daryl—I'm going to get bigger before…before I have any hope of this going away and, at my age, I don't really know how my body's going to look. I mean—if I carry the baby to full term."

Daryl's chest tightened at they way she said the words. Everything about the way she said them—all of them—tugged at him.

He kissed her, again, and shook his head at her when the kiss broke apart. He kept his hand resting gently over the swell of her stomach.

"It don't matter what you look like now or…then," Daryl said. "You gonna carry the baby to full term. We're gonna keep it safe. You don't gotta do it alone. And—no matter what you look like, I'ma think you're beautiful."

"Promise?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself at her expression. It was the most hopeful he'd seen her in a long time. For so long, life had beaten her down at every turn. He'd understood the feeling. She'd barely been able to find her feet before life took her down to the ground again.

But the ground was feeling a little more solid now and, even though there were some tremors, it wasn't enough to rob her entirely of the hope that there was still some good in the world and she might be worthy of some of it—especially when so much of it seemed so well within reach.

"You got my word," Daryl said. "For what it's worth."

"I can't lose you, Daryl," Carol offered quietly.

"You won't never lose me," Daryl assured her. "And if I got anything to do with it? You won't lose nobody again."

"It's the first night of—the rest of our lives," Carol offered. "Or is that—too cheesy?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Perfect," Daryl said. "Come here. Let's start it off right."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl stepped outside the door with his cigarettes and lighter in one hand and his crossbow in the other. He put his bow down almost immediately, satisfied to simply have it outside the door in case it turned out that he needed it for something. Dog bounded out the door with him and proceeded down the steps to do his business in the yard. Daryl lit his cigarette before he surveyed his surroundings. He'd done little more than piss, pull on his pants and shirt, and shove his feet into his boots before he'd stepped out.

He nearly choked on his first good drag of the cigarette because Ezekiel was just letting himself through the gate. Daryl hadn't heard the rig, so that meant that Ezekiel had been there, waiting for someone to wake up.

"Too fuckin' early, King," Daryl called out, keeping his voice somewhat low. "When I said come around any time—I didn't mean the ass crack of dawn."

"Carol's still asleep?" Ezekiel asked, ignoring Daryl entirely as he crossed the yard toward the porch.

"Sleepin' good," Daryl said. "I won't wake her up, neither, for anything short of an actual emergency."

"I don't wish for you to wake her," Ezekiel said. "I knew that it's been her habit to sleep later these mornings since she became aware of the little one's presence. At least—when the little one allows her to sleep."

Daryl's stomach knotted in response to Ezekiel's words.

There was no bite to them at all. There was no malice. He was simply stating fact as he knew it to be, and it was a reminder that Daryl had missed a lot of time with Carol. He had a lot of time to make up for.

"It was you that I was hoping to speak with," Ezekiel said, unaware that Daryl was stewing over the fact that he'd woken up with Carol countless mornings when Daryl was only just beginning the habit. Daryl reminded himself, though, that it was him that Carol had chosen for the rest of her mornings—and that was really all that mattered.

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

"Carol has hardly been well since she learned that she was carrying the little one," Ezekiel said.

"So, I heard," Daryl said.

"She expressed to me that she wants to do what she can to make sure that the child is healthy and thrives," Ezekiel said.

"So far, we're on the same page," Daryl said.

"She's also expressed that she's terrified of the whole process," Ezekiel said. "Carrying the child. Giving birth. Having a baby to raise in this world."

"If you knew all the hell she's seen," Daryl said, "and all the hell that's—well…that's happened to her? You wouldn't need her to tell you she was terrified. You'd just know that she's gotta be."

"I'm not your enemy," Ezekiel said blankly. "If anything—I share one very important thing in common with you, and that's that I would give anything for Carol's happiness. No matter how much it hurts me. But I am not your enemy, Daryl."

Daryl felt properly scolded, but he accepted that he probably deserved it. Rather than lash out at the man who pretended to be a king for some ongoing fantasy game he played with those who called themselves his subjects, Daryl nodded at him.

"You right," Daryl said. "And—look—I'm sorry. About bein' an asshole. But also, about how things, you know, turned out."

Ezekiel offered him a smile.

"They turned out as I always knew they would," Ezekiel said. "Perhaps, even, as I always hoped they would. I would rather lose Carol to her happiness forever than to hold her for eternity in misery."

"For what it's worth," Daryl offered. "I don't think—she was never miserable when she was with you. If she had been? I wouldn'ta let her go back to the Kingdom."

"Can we declare a truce, then?" Ezekiel asked.

"Had one already," Daryl said. "Hell—it's just too damn early. I ain't awake yet and I don't want to make coffee because the smell'll wake her up."

Ezekiel smiled. He winked at Daryl.

"Especially these days," he offered. "If you don't know it yet, her sense of smell is incredibly heightened."

"I'll keep it in mind," Daryl said. "What'd you want to talk to me about. Or did you just come down here to draw up a truce?"

"There's a doctor at the Hilltop," Ezekiel said. "A real doctor. He has equipment for—dealing with pregnancies. He has a machine to scan the baby and make sure that it's healthy and everything's growing as it should be." Daryl's stomach fluttered a little at the thought of all that. He didn't interrupt Ezekiel, though, since he'd already interrupted the man a number of times and he thought he owed him the nicety of at least letting him finish. "I meant to take her to the Hilltop when she first learned that she was carrying the baby. Ironically, she fell ill before I could take her. She was too ill to risk taking her and—I honestly feared for the worst. I put it off because she believed, and I did too, that every day would be the last day that she would carry the baby. So, I never sent for the doctor to come to the Kingdom. She survived the illness, though, and it appears the baby did as well. I thought you might want to know that he's there. He could offer peace of mind where so few of us really can."

"Thanks," Daryl said. "For real. I'ma talk to her. See if I can't—get her to go."

Ezekiel reached in his pocket and produced a folded-up piece of paper that he passed to Daryl.

"Take this," he said.

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

"A royal invitation to the Kingdom," Ezekiel said. "He knows me. We've met before. Invite him to come to the Kingdom. Invite him to bring his equipment and to stay until the Queen's heir makes an appearance in the world."

Daryl snorted. He stuffed the piece of paper into his own pocket without opening it up to read the Shakespearean bullshit that had, no doubt, been scratched onto the page with a peacock feather and some black paint. Daryl lit another cigarette for himself and blew the smoke away from Ezekiel so as to not alienate or irritate his new fine-spoken friend.

"Might not word it just that way," Daryl said. "But—I'll ask him to come back to the Kingdom. To be closer to Carol and all."

"Tell him that he'll be provided for," Ezekiel said. "All his needs will be provided for."

"I'll let him know," Daryl said. "And—thanks for letting me know about this. Carol hadn't mentioned it. I'm sure she would have but…"

"Things have been quite busy," Ezekiel finished.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Listen—as long as we're talking man-to man and all…there's somethin' else I kinda wanted to run by you."

Ezekiel looked either pleased that they were talking like this, or amused that Daryl had something he wanted to discuss with him. Daryl wasn't sure which, and he decided not to think too much about it.

"Whatever you want to discuss," Ezekiel said. "I've always got time for an audience with the Queen's chosen suitor."

Daryl frowned at him, but he left him alone. Everyone had their thing these days—whatever it was that got them out of bed—and if this was what Ezekiel needed to keep trudging through this world, then Daryl wasn't going to try to make him stop. Besides, Daryl had all ideas that King Ezekiel, for all the cheery faces he would put on in public, probably felt about knee deep in shit at the moment. If spouting off like some kind of storybook character made him feel better, he might as well have that.

"It's about Henry," Daryl said. "He's takin' this pretty damn hard."

"He's dealing with the separation of his parents," Ezekiel said. "Adopted or not, we've been his parents for some time now. To see us apart—it's going to take him a few days to adjust."

"I get that," Daryl said. "I do. Totally understand it and I told Carol as much."

"She's not taking it well either," Ezekiel offered, concern crossing across his brow.

"Not at all," Daryl said. "Not the fact that Henry's upset, at least. And it's starting to dredge up some old memories."

"And I assume they are not the kind that you wish to sit around reminiscing about."

"Not in the damn slightest," Daryl said.

"Have the nightmares started again?" Ezekiel asked. "The ones where—she screams and doesn't recognize anyone?"

"Takes her at least ten minutes to come outta of each of 'em good," Daryl said. "She was up half the night with sweats from night terrors. She's sick to death thinkin' that Henry ain't gonna forgive her an' he's never gonna come around again. He's gonna stay with you 'cause he thinks she's a bitch or somethin' that done you wrong."

"Is it fever?" Ezekiel asked. "She had horrible visions of things with the fevers."

"No fever," Daryl said. "Not yet. Nightmares. I know 'em. I've seen 'em before."

"It's been some time since she had nightmares without the fevers," Ezekiel said.

"Well if they keep up and she don't rest," Daryl said, "then she's gonna fall sick to fever again because her immune system's gonna be shot from stress and exhaustion. She's gotta get some peace—at least as much as I can create for her."

"It was a bad night," Ezekiel said. There was more empathy there than Daryl expected. He felt it in the man's words. There was absolutely no challenge there now. Daryl didn't expect to feel oddly moved by the fact that Ezekiel truly sounded like he cared for Daryl's plight.

"Bad enough—I'd consider sending her back to the Kingdom if I thought that'd fix it. Just to let her be close to Henry," Daryl said. He shook his head at Ezekiel. "She can't do that. She can't lose another kid. She don't deserve it. And not over somethin' as stupid as some hurt feelings."

"Henry is young," Ezekiel said. "He's nearly a man, but nearly a man is still a boy. And he loves his mother deeply. He's rebelling. He's angry, perhaps. He's dealing with the shattering of—of an illusion."

"That's just it," Daryl said. "It's an illusion. It's some rebellion for him. But it's the end of the world to her. I wanna talk to him. Ask him to come an' stay. At least let him know he's welcome here. See if—if he don't want to stay long term if he won't just—throw her a bone. A night here or there. Let her have a night, or somethin', where she goes an' pulls the blankets up around his neck like she even done while we was at the camp."

"Henry may want to act out," Ezekiel said with a hint of a smile, "but he doesn't want to truly hurt Carol. If he realized that she'd lost even a few hours of sleep—or that the nightmares were returning—he would do whatever he could to soothe her. At the moment, perhaps he feels he needs to pick a side. And since I am still where he knows me to belong, perhaps that's why he's chosen that side."

"He thinks she betrayed you," Daryl said.

"I'll talk to him," Ezekiel said. "Again. And—you should talk to him." For just a moment, Daryl saw it. He saw the relaxation as it reached the muscles of Ezekiel's face. He saw the exact moment that the man put down his guard and dropped his act for just a second. "Daryl—at this point in his life, Carol is Henry's greatest love. When you speak to him, make sure that he knows that Carol is your greatest love, too. That's a language he'll understand. And I know she must be—because just like you would have never let her return to the Kingdom if she were miserable there, I would have never let her go if I weren't certain she was going to arms where she would find the greatest love."

Daryl nodded his understanding. He understood, too, that there was nothing else that needed to be said about the subject, at least not for the time being.

"I appreciate you talkin' to him," Daryl said. "I'll talk to him, too. And I'ma see if I can't get Carol ready to leave for the Hilltop as soon as possible."

"Go to the Hilltop today," Ezekiel said. "The skies look clear. I'll leave the wagon, so Carol can't refuse. I'll talk to Henry and, after you've returned, you can talk to him. He should be more receptive then."

"Thanks," Daryl said. "At least—let me take you back to the Kingdom in the wagon."

Ezekiel smiled and shook his head.

"It's a nice morning," Ezekiel said. "And I've got a lot on my mind. I'll appreciate the walk."

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**AN: As I've said before, I haven't watched the show for a while. I know there's a doctor and such, but I know nothing about him, so I'm making my own up. That really goes for pretty much all the characters I may end up bringing into the story. I hope that's not a problem! **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl let Carol sleep a great deal since she seemed to have fallen into a pretty deep sleep with the coming of the morning. While she slept, he took Dog and set some traps in the woods for Walkers and some snares for meat. He shot a few squirrels and cleaned them—traipsing back and forth to the house throughout the whole process to make sure that, in his absence, Carol hadn't woken and gotten concerned—and then he'd started a small fire in the fire pit outside where he could keep a close watch on the horses. Ezekiel had brought a box of food in the wagon—enough to get them through several days—and Daryl used that with what he had to start a breakfast that was damn near good enough for royalty, whether that royalty was imaginary or otherwise.

Daryl didn't mean to wake Carol when he was pulling an extra blanket down from the shelf in the top of the closet, but he accepted that she should probably start to wake up since breakfast would be ready soon.

He'd given her a few minutes to get her boundaries before he'd taken her outside to a picnic breakfast and explained that the horses needed to be looked after while they waited for the trip to the Hilltop that they'd start just as soon as they were finished eating.

Carol might have tried to refuse the trip to Hilltop—whether it was because of what was going on with Henry or whether it was nerves that would make her do so, Daryl didn't know—so Daryl was glad that Ezekiel had thought to leave the wagon there. It was an added push to tell Carol that there was no sense in refusing the trip. They'd have to take the wagon back to the Kingdom and, as long as they were getting on the wagon, they might as well use it to make the trip to the Hilltop.

The wagon was also proof that Ezekiel had been there and it gave credence to Daryl's promise that Henry wasn't really mad and was going to get over this little fit he was having—even Ezekiel said so, and he had most recently seen the boy. It backed up Daryl's insistence, too, that Henry wasn't going to come and wonder where they'd went, because Ezekiel was going to talk to him and, while he talked to him, he'd be sure to let him know that they were away for a day or two.

When they'd finished breakfast, of which Daryl thought Carol ate more than a satisfactory amount, and they'd let Dog have what he wanted of the scraps, Daryl made sure the fire was out while Carol packed a small bag for them both. As soon as the wagon was loaded, and Dog was happily riding in the back for the first leg of the journey, Daryl had flicked the reins and they were off.

The best feeling that Daryl didn't expect was when Carol got as close to him as their bodied would allow and leaned her head against his shoulder. He shifted the reins to one hand, since there was little that needed to be done with the reins until their next turn, and he put an arm around her shoulder before he leaned his face lightly against the top of her head.

"You—wanna talk about it?" Daryl asked.

"About what?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Anything," he said. "Absolutely anything that's on your mind."

"There's more on my mind than you want to hear," Carol said with a sigh.

"We've got a long way to Hilltop," Daryl pointed out.

"You might get tired of hearing it," Carol said.

"If you keep feeling it," Daryl offered, "I'll keep hearing it."

Carol snuggled into him and Daryl wondered, for a moment, if she might actually be considering going back to sleep.

"I hate that we just got—to our house," Carol said. "That it just became our house. And we're leaving it."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"For like—one night only," he assured her. "And this is real important."

"That's another thing," Carol said. "If I think about it too much, I feel sick. What if—something's wrong?"

"Then we deal with it," Daryl said.

"You mean I deal with it," Carol said.

"No, I mean we deal with it," Daryl said. "There ain't no I no more, Carol. Isn't that what this is all about? You and me and…this whole new life thing?"

"That is what it's about," Carol said. "But it's me who…might not be able to do this. You've kind of done your part."

She laughed quietly to herself and rubbed her face against Daryl's shoulder.

"You talkin' about the baby, right? Just—just so we're clear?"

"Mmm hmmm," Carol hummed.

"Well if that's all the hell I have to do with it, Carol, then…"

"What?" Carol asked after a moment. "What were you going to say?"

"I don't know," Daryl said. "That's why I didn't say it. Listen—I get it. The whole thing—havin' the baby and all that? I get that it's like a thousand times bigger deal for you than it is for me. But—I kinda like the idea of being involved. Havin' some kinda role in all this."

"You can be as involved as you want to be," Carol said.

"Not if you keep shoving me out, I can't," Daryl responded.

"I'm not shoving you out," Carol said. "But if something happens, it'll be my body that—couldn't handle it."

"Or—it could be me that give you defective shit to work with in the first place," Daryl offered. "Let me just ask you one thing. Is this makin' you feel better?"

"No," Carol admitted.

"Me either," Daryl said. "Let's try somethin' else. Let's say—you see this doctor and everything's just great. Perfect. What are you hopin' for?"

"You mean—with the doctor?" Carol asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said. He tried to sound as enthusiastic as he possibly could. At that moment, he would take anything. He'd listen to any list she wanted to give him as long as it was a list of hope and not the list of hopelessness that seemed to have started to form the night before. She'd been lighter at the camp than he'd seen her in a while—once she'd told him about the baby and he'd promised to come back with her and really make something together—and he wanted her to have that. He thought she could have that, if she could be reminded that there could be good things out there.

This was a new life, after all, for the both of them. They'd decided it. They'd claimed it and named it to be so. It might as well be a new life that came with some hope.

"Well…" Carol started. She paused.

"Go ahead," Daryl said. "Everything's perfect so…don't think about what could be bad. What do you want most?"

"I want the baby to be healthy," Carol said.

"Done," Daryl said. "Perfect. So, you're healthy, too. All the way."

Carol laughed quietly. Daryl rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her a little tighter against him in a hug.

"I want—to see the baby," Carol said.

"Got a machine for that," Daryl said.

"Hear the heartbeat," Carol said.

"Can he do that?" Daryl asked.

"He should be able to," Carol said. "With the machine or…or a stethoscope or something."

"Then we'll do that, too," Daryl said.

"I wouldn't mind—knowing what the baby is," Carol said. "A boy or a girl."

"He can do that with his machine?"

"If it's not too early," Carol said. "I don't know when it's too early. I didn't find out—with Sophia. I didn't find out until she was born. I was too scared to know."

"We'll find out," Daryl said.

"Unless it's too early," Carol said.

"Then we'll find out when it ain't too early," Daryl offered. "I got—in my back pocket? I got a royal invitation or declaration or whatever that asks him to come to the Kingdom. Bring all his stuff. Move for the duration or, at least, until the baby comes."

Carol sat up and twisted her neck like she might be trying to loosen up a knot there, but she didn't put any distance between herself and Daryl. She stayed close enough to him that their bodies might be glued together and, if the temperature dropped anymore, they could easily share a blanket to keep warm.

"He might not want to move," Carol said.

"Then we'll come back to Hilltop," Daryl said. "Either way…what do you want?"

"I told you what I want," Carol said. "I don't have too many more expectations for the exam. It's a physical exam, Daryl."

"Boy or girl, Carol," Daryl said.

She laughed quietly.

"You tell me," she said. "What do you want? Or—do you not want to know? We don't have to know."

"You want to know," Daryl said. "And I don't care. I mean—I'm going to know eventually so today's as good a day as any."

"Boy or girl?" Carol asked.

"You can't go first?" Daryl asked.

"Boy or girl?" Carol repeated.

"You gonna—think I'm pissed off or disappointed or whatever if what I say isn't what we get?" Daryl asked. "Because that ain't the case. I'm kinda pickin' here like…like you like two flavors of something and you're picking which one you like best."

"Just because you like chocolate doesn't mean you hate vanilla?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

A week ago, he might have spent this hour of the day—the intoxicating hour when the sun was bright and the whole world almost seemed to be something that wasn't quite real and the air was cool and fresh and felt clean—sitting on a stump feeling sorry for himself. He might have been stewing in his past miseries and convincing himself that life—at least his life—was a shitshow that was only getting progressively worse. He might have been suffocating under the weight on his chest that felt like an anvil—the same anvil that had been resting there for years.

The weight of that anvil had only ever even been lessened in the presence of one person.

And now that person was sitting beside him, silently stealing his body warmth against the chill of the air stirred up by the moving wagon, with her hand resting affectionately on his thigh. That person was talking about a child that she carried—a child created between the two of them.

They were talking about forever together, hiding away from the world in a little house where they reached out from time to time but mostly kept their distance from the unnecessary drama created by others.

Maybe it wasn't too ridiculous that the good King Ezekiel lived in his make-believe castle when Daryl really thought about it.

Daryl realized that he was looking forward, after all, to his own fairytale in his quiet little enchanted home in the woods with the woman that he'd heard Ezekiel call, more than once, a faerie queen.

The first hints of true happiness felt good.

Daryl moved his arm from around Carol's shoulders. He slipped a hand over and tentatively brushed his fingers against her stomach before dropping his hand to her thigh.

"I like chocolate and vanilla," Daryl said. "And I'd like a boy or a girl—as long as…you're it's mama."

"You aren't going to tell me what you want?" Carol asked.

"No," Daryl said. "Because then you'll worry about it. You'll say you won't, but you will. And I don't want you to worry about nothin' else. Not today."

He closed his eyes a split second to the satisfaction of her lips pressing warm against the side of his face. She nuzzled his ear and he shivered.

"Then I'll just hope you get what you want," Carol said.

"Then that'll make two of us," Daryl assured her.

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Daryl steered the wagon through the open gates and into the Hilltop. As they were entering, people were walking up. Some came simply to see who was arriving. The familiar faces, though, were coming because the lookouts already knew who was coming.

Daryl pulled back on the reins and stopped the horses as soon as they were far enough inside the gates to allow for the gates to be shut. Dog, who had run along beside them for the last leg of the journey, ran past the wagon and greeted a few familiar faces in the crowd before he disappeared in search of someone who might have some snack to offer him.

The man they called Jesus approached the side of the wagon as Daryl climbed down.

"Daryl," he said. "Carol. It's been a while since I've seen either of you."

Daryl accepted the half-hug that Jesus offered him because he knew he wouldn't escape without it. Carol slid over and started out of the wagon, and Daryl immediately reached his hands up to catch her sides and help guide her down. As soon as she found her footing on the ground, Daryl looked back to Jesus.

"What brings you to Hilltop?" Jesus asked.

The clothing Carol favored these days hid her belly quite well at this point. Still, there was a hint of it where the cloth was wrinkled and bunched from sitting so long. Daryl reached a hand over and rested his palm flat over her belly. His hand practically covered the entire swell.

"Heard you had a doctor here," Daryl said. "Heard he could take care of babies and things. Thought he might have a look at something we brought with us."

Jesus wasn't stupid or slow to follow things, and his eyes had immediately followed Daryl's hand. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. It was clear that, when he'd been walking up and thinking of all the things that might have brought them there, this wasn't one of the things that he'd included on his list.

"Precious cargo indeed!" Jesus said, he immediately went for a hug and Carol seemed more than happy to accept it. Daryl stepped out of the way so that the two of them could enjoy the strong hug that passed between them. When they were done, both of them still smiling, Jesus held Carol at arm's length. He was clearly having a difficult time deciding if he was going to look at her stomach or her eyes. "Of course—he's here and he'll see you. I'm sure it'll just take him a few minutes to get ready."

"We can put our stuff up," Daryl said. "See about the wagon and the horses. If you got a room for us for the night?"

"A night, a week," Jesus ticked off, still holding onto Carol's arms. "However long you want to stay. But—where is the King? Henry?"

Carol's smile fell and she looked at Daryl. He could feel her anxiety.

She was in a good place for the moment. She was feeling good. And this was possibly going to be as stressful an appointment with a physician as she'd ever had. Daryl preferred for her to go into it with a positive state of mind instead of one that had just been worn out from rehashing the things that had been difficult over the past few days.

He reached a hand out and squeezed the top of Jesus's arm to draw his attention. He did his best, with his words and his facial expression, along with the firmness of his squeeze, to communicate that there was some finality in his words.

"They're at the Kingdom," Daryl said. "We'd really like to square things away. See that doctor. There'll be plenty of time for catching up later. When we're settled."

Jesus seemed to understand what Daryl was saying. At the very least, he seemed to understand that Daryl was telling him "not right now" without using the words. He renewed his smile and nodded.

"Absolutely," he said. "Absolutely. I'll just—send you with Tara to get situated and I'll go and let the doctor know that you're waiting to see him."

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**AN: You can consider canon characters as practically OC for me (or at least OOC) because I don't even know how Jesus acts, to be honest. I've seen very little of him and the few snippets I've seen on YouTube to "research" hardly make me an expert. The same goes for everyone, especially with the way characters change on the show (sometimes without rhyme or reason, in my opinion, but that's another story entirely). **

**Ditto for settings. I really create my own imaginary settings. I don't know how far away one thing is from another. I don't know who lives where, so I'm guessing and using people I want to use. (Do you know how close I came to going total AU and having Glenn meet them? Do you? Can you even imagine? LOL)**

**Also, I don't do caveman Daryl with the vocabulary of six words and some variated grunts. I can't handle it. Daryl is an intelligent person (though I don't necessarily say highly educated, and I believe there's a difference) and he can speak in full sentences, even complex ones, especially when it matters to him. I keep more of the Seasons 1 and 2 Daryl, but just sort of add on his new experiences. Basically, I guess I create my own Daryl. I'm sorry if that bothers you. It's just what I have to do.**

**Anyway, there you go, your handy-dandy disclaimers for this chapter. **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"I haven't seen you in at least a year," the doctor said.

He looked genuinely happy to see Carol and she smiled at him and embraced him. He looked at Daryl and offered him a smile and a hand.

"Michael Janson," he said. "Michael, please."

"Daryl," Daryl responded. "Dixon. But—Daryl."

"Doctor Janson—Michael— comes to the Kingdom sometimes," Carol said. "Treats everyone who needs something."

"Where is the King?" Michael asked.

"He's at the Kingdom," Daryl offered.

He didn't miss the expression that crossed the doctor's face, but he didn't care, either. His greatest concern was watching Carol's face to judge how she was handling everything. Her anxiety was rising faster than the temperature in an oven. Daryl could practically feel it.

"OK, then," Michael said, clasping his hands together. "Jesus tells me that—you're here for an ultrasound?"

"Yeah," Carol said. She nodded her head and Daryl felt in his back pocket to make sure that the handkerchief he'd stuffed in his pocket that morning hadn't fallen out somewhere. She looked like she might need it already, and he had a feeling it would only become more necessary.

"A prenatal ultrasound," Michael said. "Just to be clear."

"Yeah," Carol agreed.

"Does that mean that I'm correct in assuming you'd like a full prenatal exam?" He asked. Carol nodded again. "Great! Congratulations! That's excellent—it's not every day I get the privilege of talking about new lives. If you'd like to—go ahead and undress? I'll wash my hands. We're low on gloves, but I do keep everything as sanitary as absolutely possible. Those gowns are clean. And the sheets. The gowns tie in the back, but you won't need to close it for now. You can take a seat on the table." He looked at Daryl and cleared his throat. "Carol might like a little privacy."

Daryl looked at Carol to verify this. She looked like she might like a drink. She looked like she might like a Xanax. She looked like she might even appreciate an oxygen mask. She didn't really look like she was all that concerned about her privacy since she was already working on the button and zipper of her pants.

"You want me to leave?" Daryl asked.

"I want you to stay," Carol said. "I want—him to stay. He's—he's the baby's father and…I'd like him to stay."

"Oh," Michael said. He was already scrubbing his hands and, from the expression on his face, it was clear that he was no more up-to-date than anyone else at the Hilltop. Of course, he had no reason to be.

"It's complicated," Daryl offered. "But—there's no bad blood."

"I'm not here to judge anyone," Michael said. "And whatever makes Carol comfortable, makes me comfortable."

"Could I—talk to you about that?" Daryl asked. "Just—for just like a minute? Maybe while she's—puttin' on one of them gowns or something? Before we get goin' or whatever?"

"I'll just," Michael started rinsing his hands. "I can just do this…when we get back. If you don't mind, Carol?"

"I don't mind," she said. She offered Daryl a tight-lipped smile. He knew that kind of smile. He patted her shoulder.

"Be right back," he said. As soon as Michael's hands were dry, he followed him outside the little trailer that Michael called his office. The buzz of the generator would mask most of their conversation, at least. "Listen—I know you don't need our whole story and you don't care about it," Daryl said as soon as the door was closed. He kept his voice low so that they wouldn't catch the attention of anyone wandering around and their words wouldn't drift back in to Carol when the generator failed to mask them. "Suffice it to say that—that woman in there is just another patient to you. Queen of the Kingdom or whatever. But she's the only woman that—that I ever cared for like…like I do. And Ezekiel knows that. And she's scared. But scared don't even begin to cover it. Terrified. Like—nightmares and she's not sleeping."

"She's having the nightmares again?" Michael asked.

"You know about that?" Daryl asked.

"I've treated her before," Michael said. "For—a variety of things."

Daryl's stomach twisted. Ezekiel would probably know that already. He was just learning it.

"Point is, they back. And—I just want this to be good for her. She deserves that."

Michael laughed to himself.

"I don't know what you…"

"I want you to be nice to her," Daryl said. "Take your time with her."

"I don't have any other patients at the moment," Michael assured him.

"She wants to see the baby," Daryl said. "Hear its heart. Know if it's a boy or a girl. I'm not askin' you to lie or work miracles—but if you can work miracles?"

Michael nodded his head.

"I understand," he said. "Let's go have a look, shall we? There may be no need for miracles. It could be that this is already the miracle you're after."

Daryl nodded at Michael and followed him back inside the unit. Carol sat on the table wearing a cloth hospital gown. Daryl could feel her anxiety across the room. When Michael returned to washing his hands, Daryl walked over and put his arm around Carol. He rubbed his palm across her bare back and kneaded a few muscles to bring her just a little relaxation.

"You OK?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him. She gave him the nervous, tight-lipped smile again and nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said. He offered her the handkerchief and she shook her head. "You keep it. For now. I guess—you didn't expect to see me for…for this kind of thing." She directed her words to Michael. There was a tremor in her voice. She worried about his approval, or something like that, and Daryl hoped he answered her in a satisfactory way.

Michael finished what he was doing at the sink. He came over carrying several things and Daryl stepped to the side to give him some room. The first thing he did was offer Carol a thermometer which she accepted under her tongue, and then he silently asked for her arm to introduce it into a blood pressure cuff.

"I'm always happy to see anyone for something good," Michael said. "And I consider a new life wonderful news these days." He released the air in the cuff and removed it from Carol's arm before he rubbed his stethoscope on his hand and pulled down Carol's gown enough to press it to her chest. Rather than pretend she was trying to retain some kind of privacy, Carol simply slipped her arms out of the sleeves and let it puddle in her lap. "Are you OK with that?" Michael asked. Carol hummed in the affirmative. "Can you inhale for me? Deep breath. Let it out. Again." He worked his fingers lightly over various spots on her body and asked permission before he tested out every inch of her breasts with his fingertips. "Tender?" He asked.

"A little bit," Carol said.

"It's to be expected," Michael said.

"I know," Carol said. "They're growing, too, a little. Anything else that you…that I should know about? So far?" Carol asked.

"Everything seems fine," Michael said. "You're going to stay with us for—a couple of days?"

"A day," Carol said.

"I want to check your blood pressure a few times," Michael said. "Randomly. Just—when I show up that's all I'll want from you. OK? It's a lot, lot higher than I'd like it to be, but…I'm hoping that's just nerves. Are you nervous? OK—can you take some deep breaths for me? Breathe with me? In…in…in…out…"

Carol didn't have to answer the man because it was clear that she was moments away from a panic attack if she wasn't already having one. Her blood pressure, it seemed, had pushed her too far in the direction that she was already heading. She didn't fight the man, though. Instead, she did breathe with him. She did what he asked of her and she calmed. He stood there, with his hand on her shoulder, for a few solid minutes before he spoke to her again. Daryl was grateful, too, that he was taking his time with her as Daryl had requested.

"Your blood pressure is high," Michael said, his tone even. "Your pulse is erratic. But none of that means anything right now, OK? You can put your gown back on and just pull it to the side for me. OK? Can you lie back?"

Carol nodded at him and she did lie back. She reached a hand out in Daryl's direction, and he stepped somewhat behind the table so that he could hold her hand without feeling like he was impeding Michael's movements in any way. She squeezed his fingers and Daryl squeezed hers back—a silent communication of solidarity.

The first thing Michael did was unfold one of the thin sheets and drape it over Carol's lower body. Then he gently probed her belly with some interest. Carol squeezed Daryl's hand at intervals while Michael examined her.

"Are you having any pain?" Michael asked.

"No," Carol breathed out.

"Cramping or any blood at all? Contractions?"

"No," Carol repeated. "Why is—something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong that I can tell," Michael said. "Can you scoot down? All the way to the end? I'm going to help you put your feet in the stirrups."

"I know the drill," Carol said.

She did move, and Michael helped her get situated. He left her a moment and washed his hands again before returning with a bottle and a glove. Daryl watched as he examined Carol. There wasn't much to see, of course, because he allowed her to keep the sheet that earned her a little privacy, so Daryl focused more on Carol's face than anything as she searched the ceiling of the trailer after being instructed to relax and breathe a few times with the rhythm assigned to her. Daryl took his handkerchief and dabbed at a few of the drops of saltwater that had appeared around her eyes without drawing attention to what he was doing.

Michael walked to the sink again to wash his hands before he returned.

"Your cervix is fine," Michael said. "Everything looks good so far."

"Like it's all fine?" Daryl asked.

"So far, I'd say that everything's just fine," Michael said. He switched on his machine. "And now that some of the uncomfortable part is over, what do you say we see how things are going with your baby? You can scoot back, if you want. Get comfortable. Relax."

Carol did change her position, but she immediately searched out Daryl's hand. He kept his spot at the back of the table to give Michael plenty of room, but he returned his hand to Carol and he moved enough to the side to offer her a quick kiss on the forehead—for which she looked genuinely thankful. She was breathing, and she wasn't in the midst of an active and hysterical panic attack, but Daryl could tell that it wouldn't take much to tip her over any edge.

Daryl couldn't complain about Michael, though. He seemed to be handling her the best way he could. There was nothing that Daryl could really expect him to do differently.

When Michael had everything ready, he squirted some kind of clear goo on Carol's stomach and apologized to her about it being cold. If it was cold, though, she hadn't made any complaint.

"Let's see—what we can see, OK?" Michael said.

"I already told Daryl not to be bothered if…if we can't really see much or if…if it doesn't look much like a baby," Carol offered.

"Oh, we should be able to see some things," he said. "And it should look at least a little bit like a baby judging from the position of your uterus."

"Is that bad?" Daryl asked, wishing he'd paid a bit more attention to these things before the world had gone to shit—but he'd never imagined himself in this position, exactly. "Where her…uterus is…positioned? Is it bad?"

"No," Michael said. "I assure you; her uterus is positioned right where it should be." He was focused on the screen as he moved the wand around Carol's belly. Daryl watched the screen and held Carol's hand. She tensed and Daryl immediately saw what she saw. "And there's your baby."

"Holy shit," Daryl said before he even really realized the words were going to actually escape his mouth. "It looks like a real baby. Holy shit…it looks…I expected like…an alien like…a blob or…you don't know what the hell it is but…it looks like a baby."

Carol let go of his hand as Daryl moved closer to Michael and the screen to get a slightly better look at the baby. It was dark. It was grainy. It wasn't Kodak quality, but it was a real baby. Daryl felt like, if he stared at the screen long enough, he could probably make out distinctive features. Daryl might have considered that it was some trick with the machine—a picture and not a real baby at all—but then the whole screen jumped.

"Oh…it moved," Michael said. "Rolled away. Let's see if we can catch a good profile again, like the one we had. Did you feel it move, Carol? That was a pretty dramatic roll."

"No," Carol said. "No—I mean—I don't think I did. I feel some…something in there. Some stirring. But…"

"But she ain't wanted to get her hopes up," Daryl supplied.

"Well you're welcome to get your hopes up," Michael said. "Because baby—is it baby Dixon?" Michael looked at Daryl and Daryl stared at Carol. It was Carol that hummed and nodded. Daryl felt her fingertips searching his out—reaching for his arm and trying to pull his hand closer to her. He moved back closer to her and gave her his hand. "Baby Dixon is an active little one. Either that or…it could be shy. Doesn't want us to take some pictures. There you go. We found it again."

"It's sucking it's thumb!" Carol declared loudly.

Daryl looked at her, rather than the baby, for a moment. She sounded absolutely thrilled. He'd heard genuine happiness in her declaration. Her eyes were absolutely flooded with tears. A few of them were on her lashes and some had puddled on her face. But they weren't the kind he'd rush to try to wipe away because, for just a moment, she looked as happy as he'd ever seen her before with her face locked on the screen. He'd give Michael anything to take his time and let her have just a little longer of this.

And Michael must have known, because he made no effort to end the show or change the subject.

"It sure is," he agreed. "I don't think that's a thumb. But fingers at least. Maybe it's shy and…it knows we're here now. So, it's sucking its thumb or fingers to feel a little better."

Carol pulled Daryl's hand to her and kissed it. She was happily wringing his hand to the point where it felt like she might twist his arm off, but he let her have it.

"Daryl—our baby likes its fingers. Just like you," Carol said. She sounded delighted, and Daryl laughed to himself to mostly combat the sudden tightening in his chest. "It's nervous and it likes its fingers…"

"It's cute," Daryl said. "But—I don't wanna scare it. If it's nervous…"

Michael laughed to himself.

"It'll be fine," he assured Daryl. "I do want to take a few measurements—if you don't mind?"

"As long as we can watch," Carol said.

"They may not be as exciting as the profile views," Michael said.

"Is that sound the heartbeat?" Daryl asked.

"That sound, currently, is the mixture of a number of sounds," Michael said. "Carol's heartbeat, baby's heartbeat, and the movement of fluids in Carol's body. In just a moment—I'll isolate the baby's heartbeat so I can check it anyway."

"Can you tell—what it is?" Carol asked.

"You want to know?" He asked. "You're sure?"

"We want to know," Carol said.

"It's never—absolute," Michael said. "Mistakes happen. But it's pretty clear…"

"How clear?" Daryl asked.

"I'm ninety-seven percent certain I'm right," Michael said. "That you have a baby girl."

Daryl's heart felt like it stopped for a moment. He felt like he was the one who needed careful instruction on how to breathe in and out and what to do with himself. It hit him harder than he would have believed it might.

Suddenly, the image on the screen wasn't just a trick of the machine. It wasn't just a grainy sort-of image of a baby that moved and sucked its imaginary fingers and possibly tried to hide from the prying eyes of its parents and doctor.

Suddenly that baby was a real baby. It was a real baby that he'd created with Carol.

That baby was Baby Dixon. That baby was their daughter. Their daughter who kicked and rolled around and sucked her fingers and hid because she was every bit as nervous as her mother, or she felt every bit as shy as her father often felt when people were watching.

"Daryl?" Carol asked. It pulled him back and he realized she was looking at him. She was working his hand in hers. "Daryl—it's a girl. Did you hear? It's a baby girl."

"I heard," Daryl said. His heart was thundering and his stomach ached.

"Are you disappointed?" Carol asked. Her brow furrowed and something replaced the bliss that had been there. Immediately, Daryl's chest seized up and he did the only thing that his brain told him to do. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. He lingered there a moment, and then he straightened up and squeezed her hand.

"I'm not disappointed," he assured her. "It's exactly what I wanted."

And even though he hadn't really thought about it before, he still knew that he was telling the truth.

"Measurements look good," Michael said. "I'm estimating you're at somewhere around your twentieth week. She's measuring a little small, but that's nothing to be terribly worried about. Her fetal weight is a little lower than I'd like it to be."

Daryl's stomach practically wrenched.

"Can we fix that?" He asked. "How do we—fix it?"

Michael looked at him and nodded his head.

"You can absolutely fix it," he said. "It means that—Carol needs to eat good, balanced meals. Maybe things have just been a little light?"

"I've been really sick," Carol said. "Really sick. For most of my pregnancy."

"That hurt the baby?" Daryl asked. Carol squeezed his hand. "It's—she's hurt?"

"She's not hurt. Nothing is wrong," Michael said, drawing his words out a little. "Nothing that I can see at least. Let's hear the heartbeat and we'll talk a bit more, OK? There you go…there's her heartbeat."

"It's fast," Daryl said, immediately concerned. "She scared or—sick or somethin'?"

"Her heartbeat is perfectly normal," Michael sound. "It sounds strong and it's just fast enough for this point in gestation." He moved the wand, ending the show, and went about cleaning up Carol and the equipment. Daryl held Carol's hand in his own, working it as he did so.

"So, she's healthy?" Daryl asked. "Or she ain't?"

"Carol or the baby?" Michael said.

"The answer I wanna hear is the same for both," Daryl said. "But—you already said Carol's alright so…the baby."

"OK—I won't sugarcoat this because I think you both would benefit from absolute honesty more than anything. Honestly sometimes soothes anxiety better than people think. Carol's blood pressure is extremely high," Michael said. "At the moment, her blood pressure is dangerously high. Her pulse is erratic and her body temperature is a little more elevated than I would like it to be. All of these things can be caused by her environment. They can be temporary and they can be caused by stress, so my prescription for that is—be available for the next day or so. I'll stop in and see you. Let's see if we can't get some more positive readings on Carol. And rest. Relax. For your health and your baby's health. Carol—you can start getting dressed, if you'd like."

Carol nodded and started to sit up, but Daryl could feel that she was shaking. Moving intensified it, so he moved to help her make the transition slowly to give herself time to relax.

"With all due respect," Carol said, "I'd relax better if—I knew the baby was alright."

"Your baby is fine," Michael said. "As far as I can tell, your baby is fine. You don't need to worry. In fact, your worry may be more detrimental to her than just letting nature take its course."

"You sound concerned, though," Daryl said. "Not like—like everything's perfect."

Michael sighed. He was done cleaning up, and he leaned against his counter to face them. Daryl brought Carol her clothes so that she could start dressing. He helped her dress since the shaking was taking its time getting under control.

He was certain, too, that Michael could see it. It might be an added reason for the frown and the crease between the man's eyebrows.

"Carol is a geriatric pregnancy," Michael said.

"That's a shit thing to say!" Daryl said quickly.

"Daryl…" Carol said.

"Neither one of us is that damn old," Daryl pointed out.

"A geriatric pregnancy is any woman over thirty-five," Michael offered. "It means that there are higher risks for things to go wrong, but it doesn't necessarily mean that things will go wrong. Ideally? I'd like to see you eat a few more balanced meals. I'd like to see you relax. Those are the most important things but, more than anything, I want you to relax. Take it easy. Maybe I'd like to see you a few more times to monitor your progress."

"I'd like to talk to you about that," Daryl said. "If you've got the time…"

"I've got plenty of time," Michael said. "As your doctor, Carol, this is just my wish list."

"I can do all that," Carol said. "But it's hard to…relax."

"Well I'd like you to really give it a try," Michael said. "We'll talk about it a bit more later. When I find you to take your blood pressure again. In the meantime—try to relax a little. Enjoy the fact that, as far as I can see? You're a strong, able-bodied woman. Your body is responding very, very well to this pregnancy. It shows all the signs of preparing for the long haul. You have a daughter that is very active and looks very healthy. Focus on that. Focus on being still and quiet and feeling her move. Focus on whatever you need to focus on to take the edge off. Because—aside from a few really good meals? That's going to be the best thing you can give her."

Carol nodded her head and Daryl swallowed against the knot in his stomach. He didn't say anything, though. Instead he helped Carol dress and he stood with her until the shaking had subsided. A few deep breaths and she seemed to have it under control. Daryl thoroughly thanked Michael for all he'd done so far, and Carol hugged him sincerely. When Carol assured him that she was fine, and she might like to go for a walk and stretch her legs around Hilltop—she might like to see some old faces—Daryl asked Michael for a few minutes of his time. Michael offered Carol two photos of their daughter's profile and set her free from the trailer to go in search of Tara or anyone else who might like to see the proof that they had created a daughter. She looked, for a moment, ready to handle whatever might happen, so Daryl wasn't too concerned about letting her go for the time being.

Daryl waited until they were alone to bend Michael's ear about the move to the Kingdom and to tell him about his personal concerns. He never mentioned, in front of Carol, the fact that he worried because he knew Carol and relaxation might be the best thing for the baby, but it was going to be the hardest thing for her mother.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**This is the second chapter of the day, so if you haven't read Chapter 10, make sure you go back and read that one BEFORE you read this one. **

**I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think! **

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"Look at her tiny nose," Carol said.

Daryl kissed the side of Carol's head and leaned a little closer to her in the bed. With his arm around her shoulders, she was leaning in to him, too. She held the pictures out in front of her, propped against her knees.

Their room for the night was comfortable. Jesus made sure they had nothing less than the best. He jokingly called it the presidential suite in the main house of the Hilltop.

The whole afternoon had been spent with telling and retelling the story of Carol and Ezekiel. It seemed as soon as they'd explained, difficult as it was, what had happened there, someone else approached to ask about the whereabouts of the good king if his queen was at the Hilltop and expecting.

The news of the pregnancy travelled so fast that it met Daryl when he'd emerged from Michael's trailer. The first person that saw him, after talking with Michael and leaving with the promise that the man would borrow some horses to have his trailer towed to the Kingdom in the coming days, had told Daryl about Carol's pregnancy because they clearly knew nothing of their connection.

Carol had quickly grown clearly exhausted by the endless need to explain herself and the reaction of others who didn't know how to react at all. Some offered her sympathy. Some were confused and requested more clarification that they weren't even due. Some offered congratulations. But it was clear that everything they said, no matter what they chose, slowly drained Carol of whatever energy she'd stockpiled for the day.

Daryl had seen that she'd gotten a good meal, and then he'd seen about their room as early as possible. He'd left her resting in the room, munching her way through some snacks she'd acquired at the community storehouse, and he'd gone to get a few things of his own from the items they found and hoarded for whomever might find them useful or desirable.

Now, at least, Carol was reclining in bed with Daryl following their pre-bed baths.

His hope was that she would start to really relax.

"That's your nose," Daryl said.

Carol smiled.

"It is not," she protested.

"It is," Daryl insisted. "That right there? Is this nose right here."

When he touched her nose, she crinkled it up in the way that she did when she truly, sincerely smiled and Daryl's body reacted with nervous pleasure over the fact that he could make her smile like that. Now, more than ever before, he wanted to make her smile like that forever. And if adoring the pictures for hours was what it took to do that, Daryl had all night—and the night was still very, very young as evidenced by the light that still shone through the windows.

Carol caressed the tiny nose in the picture like she was actually able to caress the baby's nose that way. As soon as Daryl had found her after her appointment, he'd found her showing the pictures off to Tara. She'd looked concerned, though, and her hand had always been just an inch or so away from Tara—no matter where she turned to more closely examine the picture—like she would snatch them back in an instant. Daryl had never seen Carol react in such a way over anything material. She was the most giving person he knew. Anyone who ever said that someone would give the shirt off their back metaphorically had never known Carol.

Things were just things.

But suddenly, some things were precious.

And she'd mentioned, more in mumbled explanation to herself than any real declaration to Daryl, that she feared the pictures would get smudged or destroyed.

She had transferred some of her fears about the fragility of the child she carried over to the fragility of the pictures. Daryl hadn't hesitated. He'd gone directly to one of the common storehouses and found a suitable frame. The pictures fit perfectly inside it and, as a result, they were protected.

Carol and anyone else who wanted to touch them could touch them as much as they pleased.

Carol slid her finger from the baby's nose and let it cover her mouth.

"Her tiny little mouth," Carol said.

"That's yours, too," Daryl said.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Now I know you're just giving me a hard time, Daryl," Carol said. "Am I bothering you?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You're not! I'm not. Look—I'm lookin' at your profile right now, Carol. I'm lookin' at her profile. I'm tellin' you that this kid is her mama's kid. She's the spittin' image of you."

"We can't see things clearly," Carol said.

"Clear enough," Daryl said. "I mean—I don't even know she's mine except…I mean I know she's not Ezekiel's. Because he's just fancy enough that, if it was his kid? He'd figure out how to have her have a lil' bitty crown sittin' right there on top of her head."

"Don't be mean, Daryl," Carol scolded. It wasn't sincere. "She's yours. Look—that's your chin."

"What the hell's a chin look like anyway?" Daryl said with a laugh. Carol frowned, though, and he wondered if she might accidentally take the teasing a little too much to heart. "Hell—I guess…I guess it could be my chin."

"She is yours," Carol said softly.

Daryl kissed the side of her face and then he touched her chin to turn her face toward him. He stole a quick kiss from her that she wasn't prepared for, and then he went back for a second that she returned. He brushed his finger over her cheek and tucked some stray hair back behind her ear where it hadn't made it into the braid she'd created.

"I know she's mine," Daryl said. "I'm just teasing you."

"Maybe—I don't…want that," Carol said.

It was rare that Carol spoke up to tell anyone what she liked or didn't like. She would stand up to anyone that she felt like she needed to face off with to protect others, but when it came to standing up for herself in simple, everyday situations, she tended to keep quiet and accept that life would simply happen to her as it happened.

Daryl appreciated that she was telling him something that she didn't care for.

"Then I won't never do it again," he assured her. "Promise. And—I'm sorry I done it then."

"I'm not mad," Carol said. "Please don't think I am."

"I don't think you're mad," Daryl said. "And you have the right to say what you don't like to be teased about. I shouldn'ta said it. She's mine and I know it."

He reached and tapped the frame.

"But the fact remains that she looks like her mama," Daryl said. "It's a good thing, though. She's got a…got good genes. Got a real pretty mama." He winked at her. "So pretty—I hear tell that like…most the men left in the world are fightin' over her." Carol frowned at him and he shook his head. "Not that either?"

"I'm sorry," Carol breathed out. "I know you're just trying to have fun…and I appreciate it because when you're silly, and when you let me be silly? It helps. It's just…"

"Too much going on right now," Daryl offered. Carol hummed and nodded. "Too soon to tease about it. And that's fine. And if it ain't never not too soon? There's plenty else to be silly about if silly's what you want right now."

Carol sucked in a deep breath, let it out with a sigh, and snuggled into Daryl. She leaned her head against him.

"Silly," she said. "Sweet. I just want something that makes it feel like there's not this huge weight on my chest. Just—for a little while."

Daryl rubbed his face against her head and touched the picture again, drawing her attention to the profile picture of the baby sucking her fingers.

"That right there—see? That's when I know she's mine," Daryl said.

Carol hummed.

"You chew on your nails and your cuticles when you're nervous, or bored, or thinking," Carol said. Daryl could hear the smile returning to her voice even if he couldn't see it. "And she sucks on her fingers when she's nervous."

"Or shy," Daryl said. "We don't know. Maybe she was just tired. Ain't wanted to be bothered. Her mama gets kinda nervous too, though." Carol hummed at him. "We gotta work on that. For her, but for you, too. If you won't do it for you, though, you gotta do it for her. Relax."

"How can I relax?" Carol asked. "When I feel like—there's always this black cloud just behind me. Whenever anything's good? It gets taken away. It always does."

"Except now," Daryl said. "I'm not going anywhere, Carol. Ezekiel's not going anywhere. We're stuck with him for the rest of our lives. And he's probably talking to Henry as we speak. He'll probably be at the house like as soon as we get back and then he'll be excited to know he has a little sister on the way. He'll be ready to stay with you. Take care of you for a change. He's not going anywhere. And she's healthy."

"Her weight is low," Carol said. "And she's small."

"And her mother is small and her weight is low," Daryl said. "So, we'll feed both of you. But she's strong and you're strong and that's good news."

Carol snuggled against him again, rubbing him with her body in an attempt to get as close as the laws of space allowed. He met her with the same enthusiasm.

For years, he'd dreamed of being this close to her. He'd dreamed of having her desire to be this close to him. One way or another, though, he'd always managed to sabotage actually having that happen for any length of time.

He wasn't going to do that anymore.

Carol hummed and brushed her finger across the pictures again.

"Look at her tiny little fingers," Carol mused.

Daryl laughed to himself and kissed the side of her head.

"You gonna sleep with the pictures tonight?" He asked.

"I might," Carol teased, picking up on the teasing in his tone.

"I'm glad they make you happy," Daryl said. "Give you—somethin' to hold onto. Somethin' to look at."

"I just like seeing her," Carol said.

"I like seein' her too," Daryl said. "Can't wait 'til we get to really see her."

"I can wait," Carol said. "I can wait—as long as she needs."

"You know what I mean," Daryl said. He reached his fingers out and pinched the frame between them. "Still—I think this frame here, so that you can touch the pictures as much as you want? I think this frame is probably the best gift I ever give you."

Carol let the frame rest against her knees. She turned to Daryl and offered him a smile. The smile sent a shiver through him.

"Not the best gift," she said.

"No?" Daryl asked.

"No," she assured him. She reached for his hand and he let her have it. She rested it on her belly and reached the other hand over to run her fingertips through his hair before she caught his face and kissed him. The kiss told him exactly what he needed to know about what was on her mind for ways to pass a little of the night. He indulged her and kissed her back with as much as enthusiasm as she showed him. "This is the greatest gift you've given me," Daryl," Carol said when she pulled their lips apart. "She's the greatest gift you've given me."

Daryl took her picture frame and moved it out of the way. He put it on the nightstand directly beside her so that she could have it whenever she may need it. Then he turned his body and invited himself over to share her space. He brought their lips back together even as he let his hands start to explore her body and to start waking her up to his touch.

She kissed him and spread her legs to give him a place to put his knee. She made room for him to come closer to her and take his place entirely over her.

Daryl had never been more annoyed than he was the moment that there came a loud knock on the door.

"It's Dr. Michael," the man said through the door.

Daryl pulled off of Carol and sunk back against his pillow. She laughed to herself and dabbed at her lips with her fingers. Neither of them was entirely without a little raggedness to their breathing.

"Come in," Carol called out. "It's not locked."

"Only 'cause we couldn't figure out how," Daryl muttered.

Michael opened the door and came in. Under his arm, he carried a blood pressure cuff, and around his neck he wore his stethoscope.

"Am I interrupting anything?" He asked.

"Kinda," Daryl offered.

"No," Carol said. "Please…come in."

"I just wanted to get a few readings before bed," Michael said. "Jesus said you'd been up here a while and you'd had a little time to relax. I thought it might be the best time to see what we could consider some resting readings."

From his pocket he produced the thermometer wrapped in a handkerchief. Carol accepted it under her tongue, but Daryl didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes in his direction. She accepted that her blood pressure was taken, and she bared her chest for Michael to listen to her heartbeat. When he was done, he read her temperature, rolled the thermometer back in its cloth, and returned it to his pocket.

"Even at a resting point, your pulse is erratic," Michael said. "Your temperature is elevated, and your blood pressure is high. I'm afraid that—I'm beginning to worry that it's chronic and not circumstantial."

"Before you lecture me," Carol said. "I was more relaxed before."

"Something happened?" Michael asked. "Another panic attack?"

"Nothin' of the like," Daryl offered. He cleared his throat. "The baby's OK, right? I mean, I get it—as far as you know." Michael nodded. "Nothin' that we would do…nothin' normal…would hurt it, right?"

Michael furrowed his brow at Daryl, glanced at Carol, and then raised his eyebrows. Everything, all at once, dawned on him. He smiled.

"Do you mean intercourse?" He asked. Daryl barely grunted. He wasn't comfortable discussing such things, really, but he figured that the doctor had to know how the hell they'd gotten the baby in the first place, and he'd rather have the official OK on things than not. "Unless there were some underlying circumstances, intercourse would not interfere with the development of the baby in any way. In fact, when a woman reaches climax, she releases a chemical that can be very helpful in lowering blood pressure."

Daryl cleared his throat.

"Well, see—we were just about to start lowering some blood pressure when you come in," Daryl said. "And sometimes heartbeats an' all—they gotta get a little faster before they sort of steady out."

Michael laughed to himself.

"I see," he said. "By all means—continue. But remember, it's the chemical that's released that helps the most."

"Think we got it," Daryl offered.

Michael stood up, but he did pat Carol's shoulder.

"You're insisting on leaving tomorrow?" He asked. "You won't stay and let me monitor things a few more days?"

"I'll rest better in my house," Carol said. "And—I need to see my son."

"Things are about to get a whole lot calmer," Daryl said. "But we gotta get back."

"I'll be in the Kingdom within the month," Michael said. "But—I'll see you at breakfast, before you go, at any rate." He looked at Daryl. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"At least you answered my question," Daryl said.

Michael laughed to himself.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured him. He pointed to Carol. "And you? Try not to worry about anything."


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Here we go, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"There isn't any pressing business to keep me here," Michael said. "As soon as a team can be spared to pull the trailer and the generator, I'll head to the Kingdom."

"We can send a team back," Daryl said. "A couple hands to help out."

"There's no hurry," Carol insisted.

"You're a high-risk pregnancy," Michael said, "in a high-risk environment. I'd like to be closer in case you need me."

Daryl saw Carol's expression. It darkened from the way she'd looked most of the morning. She pretended she had a sudden interest in rearranging a few of the items on the back of their wagon.

"If something's going to happen, Michael, there's nothing you can do about it—whether you're at the Hilltop or the Kingdom," Carol offered.

"That isn't true," Michael said. "There are some things that I can do for different problems that may arise."

"And we appreciate anything you have to offer," Daryl interjected. "Carol—you about ready back there?"

"I'm just fixing Dog's bed," Carol said.

The blanket that she was referring to had already been fixed once. She was, more than anything, putting a moment of distance between them. Daryl glared at Michael. The man looked at him apologetically.

"Your vitals looked good this morning," Michael offered out.

Carol abandoned her pretend work with Dog's blanket and called to the animal that wasted no time in making the leap into the back of the wagon. As soon as he was settled, she closed the back and wiped her hands on her pants as she circled around.

"Did they?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the ground or anywhere else they might trail to keep them away from Michael.

Daryl reached and caught her shoulder, guiding her toward the seat of the wagon. As soon as she started to climb up, he rested his hands on her hips to let her know that he was offering support in case she might find she needed it.

"Your heartbeat was regular," Michael said. "Your temperature was elevated, but no more than I'd expect for an expectant mother. Your blood pressure was lower—closer to what I'd like."

"And everything over a really hearty breakfast," Carol mused, finding her seat. Daryl climbed up after her and got settled. "Sounds like I'm doing everything right."

"It was prob'ly all that blood pressure lowerin' we were doing," Daryl teased. He felt his own face burn at hearing his words, but he would sacrifice his own comfort in the chance that it might amuse Carol. It seemed to work, too, because she did laugh quietly beside him.

"That could be it," Michael said. "Sometimes the best medicines are the natural ones."

"What was that chemical called again?" Carol asked.

The smile was still lingering on her lips. Daryl normally would be mortified to be so openly discussing their sex life, but the truth of the matter was that he'd spent the last day or so talking about it in a round-about manner with nearly everyone at the Hilltop who wanted to know why it was that Ezekiel wasn't there to hold Carol's hand at the moment when she saw the child she was carrying for the first time.

He might as well talk about their sex life in a way that benefitted them in some way.

"Oxytocin," Michael said.

"Oxytocin?" Carol repeated. Michael hummed and nodded to her. She repeated it again, committing it to memory. The smile hadn't faded. In fact, when she looked at Daryl, the smile was still there and very much the smirk that he was familiar with—the smirk that meant that she was about to tease him, and she was going to enjoy it. "Maybe you should—add that to your prescription. Good food, lots of rest, and…lots of oxytocin."

She leaned enough to bump against Daryl. He was smiling and he wasn't trying to hide it. The whole thing was making his face ache and he was pretty sure that his temperature, pulse, and blood pressure were elevated—but nobody was concerned about that. For her to feel better, even briefly, it was worth it, though.

"I wouldn't complain," he said. "Oxytocin. Hell—move it to the top of the list."

"Consider it done," Michael said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Alright—Doc. Thanks. You want us to send a team back for you?"

"There will be horses to spare," Michael said. "I'll be there soon. I'll let you know when I'm there."

"Pay us a house visit," Daryl said.

They'd already said goodbye to everyone else that cared that they were heading out, so Daryl flicked the reins and urged the horses onward toward the gates. Tara was working the gates and she called out to them and waved goodbye as they passed through.

As soon as they were back on the road, Daryl dropped his arm around Carol's shoulder and she snuggled in close to him.

"Feelin' OK?" He asked.

"If I say I'm still nervous," Carol said, "then you'll probably just turn around and go back as fast as you can and I just want to go home."

Daryl laughed.

"Is him sayin' high-risk what's got you with a bee up your nose?"

Carol laughed and pulled away from him just enough to stare at him with a half-confused look on her face.

"A bee up my nose?" She asked.

"Yeah—like a bee up your nose," Daryl said. "You know, because you're upset or mad or whatever that he said the words and you didn't like 'em."

"Do you mean a bee in my bonnet?" Carol asked.

"I don't give a damn where you got the bee, Carol," Daryl said. "Results the same."

Carol sighed and returned to her position of leaning into Daryl. He wasn't going to complain. If she wanted to ride the whole way back to the Kingdom like this, he'd gladly let her.

"High risk," Carol said. "Geriatric pregnancy. They sound so terrifying. It's like I'm feeling fine and then one of them comes to mind and suddenly I can't breathe and my knees are shaky because it feels like…it's just a matter of days. Like I'm a bomb, waiting to go off, and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"Well—you kinda are waitin' to go off," Daryl said. "Because one way or another, the clock is tickin' down. And when it gets to the end? Out comes a baby."

Carol snorted. 

"That is the most—that's really poetic, Daryl," Carol teased. "You should write that down."

"Asshole," Daryl offered with a laugh. "Tryin' to make you feel better an' you just jerkin' me around. So I'ma shut up now."

"Please don't," Carol said sincerely. She brushed her lips against his jaw and then again against his cheek. "Please—it does make me feel better. It really does. I'm sorry…I'm just…"

"Disguising your feelings with humor," Daryl said. Carol pulled away from him enough to stare at him. "Read it in a book," he offered. "Got a couple of books in my bag back there. Picked 'em up at the Hilltop. I figured—we gonna spend a lot of quiet evenings at the house…"

"And we can sit and read together by the fire," Carol said.

Daryl hadn't really imagined where they might read, or even that they might read together. Mostly he'd figure that Carol would need to rest and one of the ways to guarantee that she rested was to make sure that she had company. He figured he could probably get her to sit still if he sat still long enough. A book was a good way to pass the time when the conversation started to slow.

She sounded so thrilled by the prospect of reading together by the fire, though, that Daryl certainly didn't have any complaints. 

"By the fire," Daryl agreed. "You and me. All curled up."

She seemed pleased, and that made him just as pleased as he could be. She sat beside him, in silence, for a while and the horses slowly made their way down a road that wasn't unfamiliar to them at all.

"Listen," Daryl said, "I won't sit here and tell you not to worry. I know you're gonna worry. You're probably worryin' right now, and if you weren't, you are now because I said somethin' about it. And—I won't tell you that there ain't a thing gonna happen and I'ma make it all alright. I've said that to you before. I've told you I could fix things like I was some kinda god and—I couldn't make good on the promises I made you." Carol slipped her hand under Daryl's hand and threaded her fingers through his.

"I will never hold that against you," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You don't have to," he said. "I'ma do it myself. Just like you got the shit you're wired to do; I got the shit I'm wired to do. So—I won't tell you that I can stop anything you're afraid of from happening. What I will tell you is that I'ma listen to that Michael guy no matter how damn irritatin' I might think he his and we're gonna do whatever—and I mean whatever—the hell we gotta do to come out of this with the best odds possible. We're gonna make her the best environment she could ask for to grow."

"What if it's something like—I have to go on bedrest or I have to rely on you for everything?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself—he was using humor to disguise his feelings, because he didn't really feel the laughter. He didn't mind the idea of taking care of Carol, but he knew that something like that would be a constant fight. It would be hard on both of them—and not because of physical demands. Still, he thought he'd appreciate the chance to take care of Carol. At least it would make him feel like he had something to really contribute in all of this.

"I said whatever," Daryl said. "And I mean it."

"I don't want to be a burden on you," Carol said.

"So, I gotta cook a couple meals," Daryl said. "You think I can't feed us?"

"I didn't say you can't," Carol said. "Of course, I don't think you can't. But…"

"But nothin', Carol," Daryl said. "Listen—if I gotta cook us food, I can do that. If I gotta feed you and bathe you—I can do that, too."

"I'd go crazy knowing that I wasn't helping you," Carol said. "That I wasn't doing anything."

"You'd be plenty busy growing our baby girl," Daryl said. "We don't even know if it'll come to anything like that, but if that's gotta be the rule? Then you grow the baby an' I'll wash the damn dishes." Carol laughed to herself and hugged Daryl's arm. He freed his fingers to pat her leg. "We're doing this, so we're doin' it right, Carol. All the way. Give her the best chance we can give her."

Carol nuzzled the side of his face.

"I love you," she said softly into his ear.

It was very rare that she said the words. Most of the time when she said them, she said them in the heat of a moment. She told him once that she feared that they were too much for him because, honestly, they usually were too much for him.

Even though he felt them, he found it difficult to say them.

This time, though, he squeezed her thigh where his hand rested there, and he thought that the idea of it didn't seem scary. He thought, maybe, the words ought to be said more often or, at the very least, tried out a bit more.

"I love you," he said, not minding entirely how the words sounded coming out of his mouth.

"I know," Carol said. She nuzzled the side of his face again. She kissed him, close to his ear, with nothing more than the soft and gentle press of her lips against his skin. Normally such a gesture was appreciated, and it gave him a warm feeling in his chest, but this particular time it woke up his interests enough that he shifted a little to be more comfortable. "Something wrong?" Carol asked, pulling away a bit.

"You keep that up? And we gonna pull off the road somewhere an' get you another dose of oxytocin," Daryl said.

"I wouldn't mind that," Carol said. "But—it might be safer if we wait until we get to the house."

"Damnedest thing is we gotta drop the wagon off," Daryl said. "Get someone to drive us back to the house."

"So?" Carol asked.

"So, you think his majesty's gonna just let us run by an' leave? I don't know if you hadn't figured it out yet, Carol, but we're prob'ly about to get fed at the Kingdom. And then? I got a good feelin' the evening's gonna be spent with Henry—as it oughta be."

"It'll give you something to look forward to tonight, then," Carol said. "Although…"

"Although?" Daryl asked. "Oxytocin is on your prescription, Carol. It's pretty damn important…" Carol laughed and Daryl echoed her amusement. "I can tease you as good as you can tease me."

"I was just going to stay that—if Henry stays? Daryl, the springs on that bed are awful," Carol said. "I don't want to scar him."

"We got some oil at the house," Daryl said. "I already told you, I'ma do whatever it takes to help you create the environment that that baby girl is gonna like the best for growing in—and if she likes oxytocin? She's gettin' oxytocin."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl was thankful that Henry met them at the gates and that, as soon as Carol was off the wagon, he embraced her in a hug. He didn't say anything about his feelings, and he didn't say whether or not the man he called his father had spoken to him about everything that was happening around him, but Daryl assumed that the boy might not be comfortable with expressing all of that in a public place.

As soon as Carol was clear of the wagon, Daryl walked around back to let dog out. The animal had jogged along beside them for part of the journey, but he was also content to lay on his blanket and watch the world go by.

As soon as he was down, though, Dog's greatest ambition was pissing on every square inch of the royal gardens.

Daryl didn't ask Carol if she wanted it, he simply reached for the small bag where he knew she'd packed most of her possessions. There was very little that she'd bothered to carry, so he simply dropped the bag over his shoulder to carry it with them.

Ezekiel met them almost immediately and he hugged Carol before he clapped Daryl on the shoulder.

"Pleased to see you made the trip without any grave difficulties," Ezekiel said. "I trust you come bearing good news from the Hilltop?"

Normally Daryl would tell Ezekiel that the whole King thing was too damned much, and many times Ezekiel would at least tone it down some for him, but Daryl didn't say anything because, all around them were Ezekiel's loyal subjects. Whether or not it was a fantasy, it was their fantasy. Daryl wasn't going to disrespect Ezekiel in his own home.

"Good news," Daryl said. "Good tidings. Whatever the hell you wanna call it."

"You have ridden far and travelled long," Ezekiel said. "What say we feast and you can quench your thirst while you share the happy news?"

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. He accidentally looked at Carol and she was half-smirking at him.

She was tired and starting to get a little grumpy about everything. She'd wanted to go directly to the house, but the wagon made that impossible.

Daryl had told her that they would eat at the Kingdom. The food might help her mood, and he was sure that Ezekiel would insist. He'd promised her that Ezekiel wouldn't be able to rest without at least a little time spent in their company and some news about the baby. He'd told her that, if they refused, they were likely to find Ezekiel on their porch not ten minutes after they arrived at the house.

Now Carol was amused because his prediction had been correct.

He nodded his head at Ezekiel.

"I could use somethin' to drink," Daryl said. "And—Carol really oughta eat somethin'."

Carol didn't argue. She followed Daryl with her arm around Henry's shoulder, and Daryl walked with Ezekiel. Inside, they ended up seated at a dining table that was large enough to have seated at least eight other people. They crowded together at one end of the table so as to minimize the dramatic distance between them all.

For a moment, the silence was awkward. Everyone looked at everyone else like they thought they might start some conversation to break the silence. Everyone, it seemed, was too afraid to be the one to say something wrong or to say something too early. Instead of words, there was a great deal of uncomfortable glances exchanged.

And then Jerry entered the room, carrying a casserole which he put down on the table, and the tension was immediately dissolved.

Carol got out of her chair and thanked Jerry for the casserole—and his presence—with a warm hug. And Jerry, immediately after pulling away from her, pressed his hand against her belly.

Jerry was one of the people that Daryl knew Carol was most fond of in the Kingdom. He was one of the people who knew about the fantasy of it all—or maybe they all did and they just didn't want to admit it—but he was fully committed to the performance. Maybe it made it all just a little bit easier.

"My Queen!" Jerry declared, clearly happy to see Carol.

"Jerry," Carol warned. He grinned at her.

"How's the princess?" Jerry asked, undeterred.

The smile that spread across Carol's face was warm and truly happy. For a moment, Daryl considered thanking Jerry for asking what was on everyone's mind in a way that would make Carol smile rather than make her tense up.

"Yes," Ezekiel bellowed from his seat at the end of the table, "we wait to hear happy tidings of the royal infant."

"Ezekiel," Carol said, her smile falling as she turned to look at him.

Jerry drew her back quickly, though, by physically drawing her attention with another pat on her belly.

"You're still the queen," he offered. "So, this little dude or…dudette? Is still the princess…or, I guess the prince, if you say so."

Carol laughed.

"Actually," Carol said, "it turns out that the fever hallucination I had…"

"Dream," Jerry interrupted like he was trying to help her construct a narrative fit for telling in Ezekiel's royal presence.

"The dream I had," Carol corrected with a hint of a smile curling the corners of her mouth upward, "turned out to be correct. We're expecting a girl."

Both Henry and Ezekiel left their seats to embrace Carol, rub her belly, and give their congratulations. Daryl stayed in his seat. He'd congratulated her many times, and he'd congratulate her many more as they figured out how to navigate these next few months before they welcomed a baby into the world.

While he waited for them to finish fawning over her—something he figured was probably good for her and good for her overall morale—he fished around in the bag of her prized possessions. He did his best not to look at anything in there except for to quickly lay his hands on what he knew she'd be keeping with the things she held dearest.

He pulled the frame out, but he rested it in his lap for a moment.

As soon as the initial excitement died down, Ezekiel returned to the table. Surprisingly enough, he offered a hand out in Daryl's direction.

"Happiest news we have," he declared, "that the Queen shall bring forth a daughter from her…beau."

Daryl realized that Ezekiel's hesitation came from the fact that he didn't know what to call Daryl. The truth was, though, that Daryl wasn't sure what he should call him. In the land of reality, he and Carol hadn't had time—or they hadn't taken the time—to discuss things like titles. Maybe that was because, in the land of reality, titles didn't really matter all that much. These days, honestly, they mattered even less than they once had.

In the land of make believe that Ezekiel inhabited, Daryl would be another character entirely—a character he couldn't even imagine.

Still, he took Ezekiel's hand, still seated at his spot at the table, and gave it a hearty shake.

"Congratulations," Ezekiel said. "The fates have truly smiled upon you and brought their blessings."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Thanks, man."

"Maybe we need to be a little sparing with the congratulations," Carol offered. She had the attention of everyone. She shook her head because she could tell, just like Daryl could, that everyone immediately thought the worst. He wouldn't have expected any less, though, because her words made his stomach drop and he already knew the state of things. "There's nothing wrong," Carol clarified quickly. "I just mean—until we know more or…the baby's here. Everything's fine right now, though the baby is a little on the small side…"

"Which we been assigned to remedy with food like this here casserole," Daryl offered. "So why don't we have some of it?"

"And cobbler!" Jerry declared. "There is cobbler for after your meal. Made fresh this afternoon. Apple—you usually like it."

"I do like the cobbler," Carol said. "Thank you, Jerry."

"If the lady's concern is food," Ezekiel offered, "there is an abundance at the Kingdom. You needn't go without."

"And we appreciate it," Daryl said. "I can hunt. We could even clear some of that land enough for better fences. Expand them. We could grow food. Put up a greenhouse. But we won't be planting until the spring."

"It's not just the food," Carol said. She started back toward her chair, but she stopped before she sat down. Holding onto the back of it, she sighed as she struggled either with her words or with actually getting them to come out. "It's…"

"Mom? Is something wrong?" Henry asked. Daryl could see the boy was genuinely concerned. He walked over to Carol and practically draped himself around her. He couldn't miss the worry on anyone else's face either.

"There's not a damn thing wrong!" Daryl said, some of his irritation coming out. "There ain't. The baby's fine. She's a little bit small, but it's just 'cause she missed a couple meals. We're gonna feed her. Appreciate all the—casseroles and cobblers and vegetables or whatever we can get. Carol's fine. Healthy as a horse."

Daryl wasn't going to scold Carol for her concerns. He might discuss them with her—possibly time and time again—but he'd do that in private. He would help he figure out how to get her worries under control, he wouldn't scold her for them. And he wasn't blaming her for her feelings. If he was blaming anyone, he was blaming the doctor for simply not skipping any of the worrisome sounding bits to share privately with Daryl or to keep to himself. After all, unless there was something they could really do, there was no need to worry. And recommending anything he recommended could have easily been done without introducing any doubt into the scenario. Nobody alive, Daryl would venture to say, was living under the illusion, after all, that there weren't risks involved in absolutely everything these days. They certainly weren't laboring under the illusion that pregnancy and childbirth came without its share of possible difficulties. Daryl decided to somewhat voice his frustrations as a way to relieve them for himself and to relieve some of the confusion of others.

"The doctor—he's a fine doctor. And I'm glad he knows what the hell he's doin', but maybe he don't know how you gotta talk to people these days. He wanted to throw around words—words that weren't meant to do nothin' but sound scary and leave him room to say that if…if things didn't go well, it weren't his fault. It weren't nobody's fault." Daryl stopped a moment. He could feel some of his irritation leaving him. He felt tired, suddenly, but it felt good. He'd successfully drawn the attention away from Carol. She was staring at him as hard as anyone else, like she had no idea what he might say, and he held her eyes. "Carol's fine," he said. "Doc's comin' within the month to stay here. We appreciate you puttin' him up. We got a prescription for—for helpin' the baby grow. She's just about perfect."

He pulled the picture frame out his lap and looked at it for a moment like he hadn't practically committed the entire thing to memory the night before. He gave Carol a hard time about how much she'd touched and looked at the pictures since they got them, but he couldn't really hold it against her. Just seeing the grainy profile of the baby gave Daryl butterflies in his gut. He offered the frame out in Ezekiel's direction.

"She's just about perfect," Daryl repeated, realizing how truly tired he was beginning to feel. "We brought a couple pictures of her. So—how about we serve this casserole around and…everyone can get a good look at her?"

Carol sat down at her seat across from Daryl and Jerry quickly served her casserole before he made the rounds. He looked so damned happy at the moment that Daryl might have thought that serving casserole was all he'd ever dreamed of doing with his life.

Ezekiel carefully studied the pictures in his hand and then he reached a hand over and patted Carol's.

"She is a beauty," he said. "She inherited her beauty from her mother." Ezekiel winked at Carol and Daryl allowed it because what he said was true, and also because the harmless teasing made Carol smile. Ezekiel passed the photo over to Jerry, who was hovering behind her shoulder, and who declared she was "one of the best looking babies he'd ever seen," before he passed the frame on to Henry.

Across the table, Carol was watching Daryl. Even around the fork, when she ate, she smiled at him. She was smiling at him with her eyes. The expression made his chest tighten. It loosened a little, though, when he felt her nudging him with her foot under the table. Her smile widened when she saw that he'd noticed, and he very clearly read her lips as she mouthed a "thank you" to him.

"What was the prescription?" Henry asked. He was sitting beside Carol and he half leaned into her and toward the table like he was trying to get closer to the center of things.

"What?" Carol asked, accepting the frame back that she got from Henry. She looked like she wasn't sure what to do with it, so Daryl waved his fingers at her and took it back so that she wasn't troubled with figuring out where to put it for the moment.

"You said you had a prescription," Henry said. "To help the baby grow. What is it? The apothecary can make a lot of things, but there's a lot we've found, too. It may be there if you don't have it already."

"It's a natural prescription," Daryl offered. "Won't run out. Good food—keep her fed. And—relaxing and resting. That means takin' it easy."

"It means not being bothered by insignificant concerns," Ezekiel offered.

Daryl had the distinct feeling that Ezekiel's comment was directed at Henry more than anyone, because Henry sunk back into his chair. Daryl imagined that, perhaps, something of the sort had already been suggested to the boy.

"So, what are we going to name her?" Jerry asked, sitting down at the table and inviting himself to share some of the casserole.

"Jerry," Ezekiel said.

"We haven't gotten that far," Carol said.

"Got plenty of time," Daryl offered.

"She ought to have a really royal name, you know? Like…what was the Russian princess? Anastasia? Or you could just go crazy and just call her Princess…or go straight to…"

"Jerry!" Ezekiel said, more loudly than before. He interrupted Jerry and, almost like a scolded child, Jerry froze and simply looked at Ezekiel—fork halfway to his mouth—like he was waiting for further information. Ezekiel sighed. "Why don't you go and see if the cobbler's ready? I'm sure that the queen and her beau are road weary and wish to retire to their home soon."

Daryl didn't say anything immediately, but he hoped that Henry would be joining them.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol reclined on the couch with her feet on the coffee table in the center of the living room. The cobbler she was slowly spooning out of a bowl—making sure to savor every bite because it was even more delicious than she ever remembered it being before—was her second helping of the dessert, since she'd eaten the first helping at the Kingdom. When they'd left the Kingdom, they'd left with a large box of produce, an extra casserole for dinner, and two cobblers.

Carol wasn't certain, at that moment, that she couldn't eat all the cobbler herself.

While she rested, under strict orders to do so from Daryl and Henry—despite her attempts to tell them that she didn't need to rest—they had both unloaded the wagon before Ezekiel left with it to return to the Kingdom. Then Daryl had gone about putting things away and dealing with a running list of "household chores" that he'd created to do outside—most of which involved checking his traps and clearing any Walkers that might have bunched around the fences—and Henry had taken his things to one of the small extra bedrooms to unpack the items that he'd brought.

The cobbler had been a decision that Carol made, all her own, when left to her own devices.

Michael—her doctor—had told her to practice being still. He'd told her to start listening to her body. He'd told her to try to start listening to the baby that she was carrying to uncover what she might like or want.

For the moment, Carol was certain that she both liked and wanted cobbler.

"You never let me have two desserts."

Carol jumped. Her spoon clanked the side of the bowl with the sudden movement. As soon as she turned to see him, Henry's hand pressed down on her shoulder from behind the couch.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he offered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's OK," Carol said. She patted the couch beside her. "I forgot I wasn't alone. It was so quiet."

"If you want some time?" Henry offered.

Carol smiled to herself. He had always been such a sweet boy. She'd struggled, at first, with the whole idea of having a family again. She'd been struggling with so much—so much that she still wasn't entirely without—that the thought of really blending in with a family was terrifying to the point that it was almost suffocating. It had been difficult to really feel comfortable with her place and her new set of roles. She could love Henry, and she could love Ezekiel, and she could love Daryl, and she could be the Queen—but she couldn't do it all, all the time. Sometimes she needed to be along with herself. Sometimes she needed to fall apart and put herself back together to come back to everything that had become her life.

The little house had offered her a place to be alone when she needed it, and Ezekiel had normalized her need to retreat there to the point that Henry hadn't ever really been saddened by Carol's occasional disappearances. He understood that, sometimes, his mom needed some time and, when she returned, she would return a happier, lighter version of herself that was ready to love him with everything he required of her.

Honestly, even though she needed less time alone than she once had, she worried that her new family arrangement wouldn't provide her with enough of that time.

But that was a concern for another day. Right now, instead of craving time alone, she was craving interaction with her loved ones.

She patted the couch again.

"What I want is for you to come and sit with me for a few minutes," Carol said. "Tell me everything I missed at the Kingdom."

"You mean—in the past few days?" Henry asked, sitting down. His tone made it absolutely clear that he thought her request was ridiculous.

Carol laughed to herself. She wrapped her arm around Henry's shoulder and pulled him to her. He came without a fight and let her kiss the side of his head. Unlike most teenagers, or so she'd always been told about teenagers, Henry wasn't ashamed of her affections. Of course, Carol wasn't sure if that would last once he started trying to impress someone who wasn't his parents, and once being affectionate with his mother became something that might make him uncool to someone else.

But for now, he was still affectionate with her, and Carol appreciated it. She appreciated it, at the moment, more than ever.

"Tell me what I should know," Carol said. "Tell me anything you want to tell me."

Henry sat quiet for a moment and Carol returned to her cobbler while she waited. He smirked at her.

"You never let me have two desserts," Henry said, repeating what he'd told her earlier.

"You can have two desserts if you want," Carol said. "Just today. There's plenty in the kitchen."

Henry shook his head.

"No," he said. "You always said it'll ruin my appetite."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Normally that's not a lie. Don't tell Daryl," Carol teased, "but—I'm not sure anything could ruin my appetite right now. I'm starving. And this cobbler is delicious."

Henry smiled at her. He stared at her in the way that he had of doing, sometimes, that almost made Carol uncomfortable. Sometimes he looked at her with the greatest amount of pure love and appreciation that anyone ever had. He looked at her like she was something unworldly.

The way that Henry looked at her, when he was like that, was what had first led Ezekiel to teasingly call her the Faerie Queen and say that she must be something not quite of this world.

Really, Carol assumed that Henry appreciated her role as his mother since he'd lost his biological mother, and he was old enough to remember Carol stepping into the role. She assumed, too, that he simply cared a great deal for those he loved because he knew what it was to be left entirely alone in the world. If it weren't for the family they'd built, he wouldn't have had anyone—none of them would.

He reached his hand over, somewhat more tentatively than in the past, and pressed his palm on Carol's belly. She wondered, for just a moment, how he'd react when there was more there to rest his hand on—and, perhaps, when there was some activity there to witness.

"She likes cobbler?" He asked.

"I guess she does," Carol said, enjoying his affections. Suddenly Henry furrowed his brow and his smile faded.

"If you're hungry, shouldn't Daryl know?" Henry asked. "Isn't it part of your prescription?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"I was mostly teasing about the don't tell Daryl part," Carol said. "And I was really mostly teasing about starving. I think I was mostly just craving the cobbler. But—I'll eat some casserole in a little while. When we all have some."

"She's healthy?" Henry asked.

Carol started to tell him that they'd been through everything at the Kingdom, and there really wasn't that much to tell, but she thought better of it and bit her tongue. Maybe Henry needed to hear it again. Maybe he just needed to talk to her.

"She's small," Carol said. "Even though—I already feel like she's really big. Like I'm really big."

"You're tiny," Henry said.

"So is she," Carol said.

"So, you should eat more," Henry said.

"So, I'm going to eat more," Carol assured him.

"And Daryl should know if you're hungry," Henry said.

"Because it's his baby, too?" Carol asked.

Henry nodded his head.

"But—mostly because he'll make sure you get something to eat," Henry said. "Just like Dad would, if he were here."

Carol nodded her head. She resisted the immediate urge to tell Henry that she could get her own food, especially since there was casserole and cobbler already prepared in the kitchen. She realized that saying that would only take away from what Henry was trying to say. It wasn't about her ability or inability to procure food if she was hungry. It wasn't about that at all.

"Daryl would make sure I got something to eat," Carol said. "And your Dad? He absolutely would. They both take very good care of me."

"Because they both love you," Henry said. "And they both love her."

Carol smiled to herself.

"They do," she agreed.

Henry sighed.

"I wanted you and Dad to be together forever," Henry said. "I thought—you'd be the ones that got to grow old together. You'd get to be old together and you'd be together forever. I liked the idea of it—the idea that some people got to be in love forever. Like in the fairy tales."

"Happily ever after?" Carol asked.

Henry growled to himself.

"I know it's just a ridiculous children's story," he said, but he never did really finish the statement.

"It's a beautiful sentiment," Carol said. "And I hope—I hope this doesn't mean that I don't get my happily ever after."

"You mean with Daryl," Henry offered. It wasn't really a question, but Carol answered it as though it was. She hummed at him and nodded her head to affirm what he'd said. "But it means that Dad doesn't get a happily ever after."

"Or—maybe it means that the happily ever afters don't happen like they do in the fairy tales," Carol said. "If your Dad found someone? If he fell in love with someone? Henry—he would do so with my blessing. More than that—I hope that he finds someone who loves and appreciates him for every wonderful quality that he has. And he's got quite a few, so you ought to pay attention and learn what you can from him."

"It's just not you," Henry said.

"I love and I appreciate your father," Carol said. "But the different kinds of love that I was talking about? When you're older, maybe, you'll understand it a bit better. I hope you do. I hope you fall in love and I hope you get your happily ever after, Henry. But—when you do love someone? You'll find out that there are different kinds of love. And they make you feel different. It's like your whole body responds differently for each of those different kinds of love. Most of me loves Ezekiel, just like most of me loves you…but there are parts of me that only love Daryl because he's that special kind of love. But that doesn't mean that—if your Dad never finds that special kind of love? It doesn't mean that he won't still be here, and he still won't be part of everyone's happily ever after in his own special way."

"Does Daryl love you like that?" Henry asked. "You talk about—being in love and I hear everyone talk about how wonderful it is…finding someone that you love like you've never loved before. You say that's how you love Daryl."

"It is," Carol agreed.

"Does Daryl feel the same?" Henry asked.

"You'll have to ask Daryl that," Carol said. "That's his question to answer. Not mine."

Henry nodded his head, and he cast his eyes downward toward the couch. Carol had watched him grow up. She'd watched him, from the first time she'd let him call her Mom, growing into a fine young man. She'd worried over him, and she'd lost sleep over him, but he'd continued to become everything she'd hoped he might and even a little more.

But still, sometimes, she could see the little boy that he had been.

"Hey," she said. "I know you're sad, OK? And that's OK. It's OK to be sad or…angry…or whatever you're feeling. It's even OK to hate me if you need to. But—not forever. Just for a little while, OK?"

She reached her hand up and brushed her fingers through his thick hair. She brushed it back and to the side and he looked at her.

"I don't hate you," he said. "I couldn't hate you. I love you."

"I love you, too," Carol said. "But—I just want you to know that I'm not trying to tell you not to feel your feelings…even if your Dad might have told you something like that."

Henry shook his head.

"He said I should be gentle with you," Henry said. "Not because you need it but, because you deserve it."

Carol laughed to herself.

"That sounds like him," she said.

"He also said that he's not angry with you," Henry said. "And that—I shouldn't be either."

"Still," Carol said, "you make your own decisions. About your feelings. I appreciate you spending the night tonight and—I hope you'll stay with me some. I don't expect you to leave your Dad all the time. I wouldn't want you to. But—I hope you won't leave me all the time, either."

"I packed enough for a couple of days," Henry said. "And I thought…"

"What?" Carol urged when he paused.

"I could just leave it here, you know? So, I've got stuff here and at the Kingdom."

"I think that would be perfect," Carol said. "If that's what you want."

"Daryl won't mind?"

"Daryl won't mind," Carol said. "But—I think that's a question for Daryl, too. Something you should ask him so that you get your answer and you don't just have to trust me."

"You won't need the room for the baby?" Henry asked.

"We'll use the other little room for the baby," Carol said. "And—at least for a little while, she's already got a room."

Henry returned his hand to her belly.

"How long before she gets here?" He asked.

"I'm about twenty weeks," Carol said. "And—if I went all the way? I'd be about forty weeks. So, we're about as far in as we are out."

Henry laughed to himself.

"How big is she?" Henry asked.

Carol spooned another mouthful of her cobbler into her mouth and chewed through it while she considered her answer.

"I don't know, exactly," Carol said. "Probably—like your hand. Maybe she's not even that big."

"How much does she weigh?" Henry asked.

"Not very much," Carol said. "And, apparently, not enough."

"Can you feel her?" Henry asked.

"I don't know," Carol said. "Sometimes I think I can and sometimes, I think it's just my imagination."

Henry stood up from his spot rather suddenly. Without explanation, he took the bowl that Carol was holding in her hand—spoon and all—and started to walk away.

"Hey!" Carol called after him. "Cobbler thief! I wasn't done with that."

Henry laughed and turned around. He had a devilish grin when he wanted to. Carol couldn't help but smile in response to it.

"I'm getting you some more," Henry said. "Dad and Daryl aren't the only ones that can take care of things."

Carol thought about telling him that she was really feeling a little full, and she didn't really need another helping of cobbler. But she didn't say anything because it was the thought behind it that really mattered.

And for Henry's sake, she could choke down at least half a bowl of cobbler if she had to.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl wanted Carol and Henry to have time. He wanted them to have the opportunity to talk, or to be quiet, or to do whatever it was that they needed to do to clear the air. Carol needed peace—and maybe Daryl needed it every bit as much as she did—and she wasn't going to get it until she and Henry had discussed everything and reached some kind of happy, common ground.

So, Daryl had done the only thing he'd known to do—he'd figured out how to make himself scarce.

He'd kept himself busy. Using a stirrup hoe, he'd cut the grass to keep snakes away from the house and to make it safe for them to be outside. While he'd worked on that, he'd walked the perimeter of their little lot and contemplated how he might extend the fences that surrounded the lot to swallow up more of the land around them. He considered simply fencing in what he wanted to add and then creating a gate so that the house was never unprotected.

That was a project for another day, though, because he would have to make arrangements for locating the necessary supplies.

The small storage shed out back, in addition to tools that Carol had put there like the stirrup hoe, held a few other things that the previous occupants of the house had left behind. Some outdoor chairs for good weather were stored out there, so Daryl dragged them out and wiped them down to rid them of spiders. He cleaned up the porch of the little house and tore down the old wasps' nests and spider webs, and then he put the chairs on the porch so that there was somewhere to sit.

It would come in handy, at least, when he wanted somewhere to smoke and watch Dog while he pissed on everything in the yard.

Lastly, Daryl shoveled the built up ashes out of their fire pit, made note that he would look for rocks to make a better pit, and then he settled down in one of the porch chairs to enjoy the fruits of his labor while giving Carol and Henry space.

He was just beginning to let his mind wander and to start thinking about the fact that, really, he hadn't given himself time to really think too much in the past few days, when he suddenly found himself not entirely alone—and it wasn't Dog's company that interrupted Daryl's solitude.

Henry didn't say anything at first. He stood by the door and stared at the chairs like they were potentially dangerous. Daryl watched him out of the corner of his eye and lit a cigarette.

"Where's your mom?" Daryl asked, forcing Henry to acknowledge that he could see him.

"She's taking a nap," Henry said.

Daryl laughed to himself, immediately struck by that information.

"For real, though, what's she doin'?" Daryl asked.

"She's taking a nap," Henry repeated.

Daryl took a drag on the cigarette. He tapped the chair next to his.

"You can sit in it, if you want," Daryl said. "It's clean. They seem pretty sturdy. Found 'em in that lil' shed."

Henry eased close to the chair like he had to sneak up on it and catch it before it ran away. It was a common, plastic, Adirondack chair. It stayed obediently in place until Henry finally took a chance and eased down to sit in it. Daryl let him settle a moment before he spoke to him again.

"Your Mom don't hardly sleep at night," Daryl said. "And she can't stand to even be off her feet during the day. She's too afraid she'll miss something these days. And before? In the beginning, she was too afraid that someone would find some fault with what the hell she was doing. Like if she sat down, the whole world would come to an end. Someone might die if she didn't serve 'em the moment they thought about needin' something. She don't nap."

"She does today," Henry offered. "She was yawning. I told her to take a nap. She said she thought she would and…she curled up on the couch. I covered her up with that blanket that was on the back of the couch."

Daryl sat there a moment and thought about it.

Maybe it was possible that Carol was taking a nap, after all. Maybe she was tired. Maybe the baby needed sleep or something and had its ways of forcing her into sleeping even though she normally wouldn't do that in the middle of the day.

Daryl knew very little about babies and, honestly, that worried him.

Of course, it was also possible that Carol was simply napping because Henry had asked her to nap. Maybe she was simply pretending for his benefit. She was that kind of mother—she was the kind of mother that would do just about anything for her child just to make them feel a little bit better.

Daryl did know a good mother when he saw one.

Daryl also had some understanding of teenage boys, especially those that had a particular hunger to have approval, affection, and stability. He might not have really found it, but he knew what it was to crave it.

"She's probably just tired," Daryl said, "from the trip and all. Been a—been a busy couple days. Lot goin' on."

"She's been worried," Henry said.

Daryl hummed.

"About the baby," Daryl said. "Yeah. I guess—it ain't no reason to keep it a secret from you. She's scared something's gonna happen to it. Like—she'll wake up in the morning and it just won't be there no more, I guess. To tell you the truth, I don't exactly how those things happen, but I do know they happen. She's just worried that…it'll happen."

"Because she lost her daughter," Henry offered. "Sophia."

"That," Daryl said. His stomach twisted a little as the memory of Sophia—stumbling out of the barn as a Walker—flashed before his eyes. The twisting intensified as he remembered her telling him about what had happened at a little house before she reached Terminus. "She's—had a hard time."

"Dad said she was scared of losing me," Henry said.

"She mighta been," Daryl said. He stared at Henry and took the final drag off his cigarette before he flicked the butt into the yard. "She got any reason to be worried about that? I've—uh—I've got a lot of interest in helpin' your mom through this. Makin' sure that she doesn't have to worry about things, at least as far as I can help it, and if that's somethin' she oughta worry about, then I'd like at least a heads up."

Henry laughed to himself.

"I'm not going anywhere," Henry said. "she's my mom."

"I get that," Daryl said. "And I appreciate the sentiment. What I was mostly wondering was if you intended to—not so much as go away entirely, but mostly go away. And, if, while you were around, you were thinkin' about steadily dragging her feelings through the damn mud because you're pissed off or—whatever."

Henry raised his eyebrows at Daryl and Daryl raised his in response. Carol might not approve of him being quite so direct with Henry, but he didn't really know any other way to be. He might pretend his lawn chair was a throne and pontificate at Henry for an hour or two like his father did, but that wasn't really Daryl's style.

"Can I ask you something?" Henry asked.

"I don't care," Daryl said. "Ask away."

"You mean that?" Henry asked.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Do you mean that—I can ask you whatever I want to ask you?"

Daryl considered it. That question sounded a great deal more loaded than the question before it had sounded. Still, this was Carol's son. If he stayed—and Daryl desperately hoped he stayed for Carol's sake—he was going to be part of Daryl's life, even if they hadn't worked out exactly what their relationship might be.

"Ask me what you want," Daryl said. "But it's a two-way street."

Henry nodded his head.

"Any time I want?" Henry asked.

"If it's appropriate," Daryl said. "But—like I said, two-way street."

Henry nodded his head again.

"Do you love her?" Henry asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Boy, you jump right to it," he said. "Thought I was bein' too direct."

"I mean it," Henry said. "I want to know. She says she loves you. She says she loves you like she doesn't love anyone else. She says she loves you like she's never loved anybody before." He shook his head at Daryl. "She's not ashamed to say it. So, I want to know, do you love her?"

Daryl's pulse picked up.

He wasn't one to say the words, mostly because he hadn't used them all that much in his life. They tasted foreign on his tongue, even though they practically echoed in his ears like a heartbeat when Carol was around. Carol accepted that he sometimes had difficulty with words. She accepted that he might not always say what he was thinking.

But he wanted to learn to say the words more often. He wanted to say them freely and openly. The way to do that, perhaps, was to practice. Daryl remembered what Ezekiel had told him—it would matter to Henry.

Daryl cleared his throat.

"I—love your mom," Daryl said. It didn't sound as strange as he'd feared it would. "I never really loved that much before, so I can't say that I have a lot to compare it, too, but I do know—I know what I feel."

"And you love her more than you'll ever love anyone else?" Henry asked.

"Never loved anyone like her before," Daryl said. "And—I don't imagine that it's gonna change. At least—I'm not going looking for it."

"So, you want—the happily ever after, too?" Henry asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Ain't that what everybody wants?" Daryl asked. "Hell—I don't have to run a whole damn Kingdom to wanna find myself a queen an' live happily ever after."

"And Mom's your queen?" Henry asked.

"You see anybody else in my life?" Daryl asked. "Henry—I know you love the hell outta your mom. And I ain't never gonna try to stop that or come between you or nothin'. She loves you even when she's not awake. She's in there, hopefully passed out and sleepin' good, and she's still just steady lovin' you. I won't stand between her and anything that makes her happy. More'n that? I want her to have whatever makes her happy, even if it don't make me happy. So, if you're worried that I'm some kinda sonofabitch that come here to—snatch your mom away, take her off somewhere, and make her miserable? You got the whole wrong idea. I won't hurt her on purpose, and I don't intend to let no damn body else hurt her, either."

"Even if it's me?" Henry asked. Daryl smirked. He thought he heard a bit of challenge in the boy's voice.

"It's the only damn time you an' me would have trouble," Daryl said. "But I'ma tell you right now, same as my brother told me, it's always best not to start a fight you ain't got a snowball's chance in hell to win."

"Maybe I feel the same way," Henry said. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"Then we got a lot in common," Daryl said. "But you didn't exactly answer my question. Just 'cause you don't want her to get hurt, don't mean you don't never hurt her. You gonna run off?"

"I'm here," Henry offered.

"You gonna—drag her feelings through the damn mud?" Daryl asked. "Make her feel like shit 'cause you'd rather she was at the Kingdom with your dad?"

"I talked to both of them," Henry said. "And I realized that it's not about what I want. At least, not entirely. So now I just want them both to be happy."

"That's big of you," Daryl offered.

"And if you're what makes mom happy," Henry said, though he left the statement open-ended. Daryl laughed to himself.

"Does that mean I got your blessing or some shit?" Daryl asked.

"Just don't make me regret it," Henry said.

Daryl swallowed down his amusement.

"Yeah, alright," he said. "Don't worry about it. I won't."

"I brought stuff with me," Henry said. "Some clothes and—a few things I'd like to have around."

"I know," Daryl said. "Take either room you want, but the one on this side of the house is a little bigger. We gonna clear out the other room for the baby eventually."

"I know," Henry said. "I unpacked. I'll probably go back to the Kingdom tomorrow or the day after…"

"Whatever you want," Daryl said.

"I thought I might leave my stuff here, though," Henry said. "So—I could come back any time I wanted. And I wouldn't have to, you know, pack things."

Daryl was relieved to hear that Henry intended to return with some frequency. That knowledge would make Carol rest better. At least she wouldn't feel like Henry was abandoning her or punishing her for some perceive abandonment on her part.

"Good," Daryl offered.

"You don't mind?" Henry asked.

"Mind what?" Daryl asked.

"Me leaving my stuff here," Henry said. "Coming back—whenever I want."

"Long as you come regular enough to suit your mom," Daryl said, "I don't care how you handle your comin' an' goin'."

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," Henry said. "Now that you two are living out here."

"Yeah," Daryl said, "we'll tone down the wild-ass parties when we see you comin'. Listen—you come when you want. Your mom would like to see more of you and I already spoke my peace. You don't hurt her and you and me ain't gonna have no trouble. That's all I really gotta say about it."

Henry laughed quietly beside Daryl.

"You're right, then," Henry said. "We do have a lot in common."


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol closed the bedroom door behind her on her last trip to the bedroom.

"He's asleep," she said with a sigh. There was a smile playing at her lips and there was a lightness in her step. Daryl knew who she was talking about. Dog might very well be asleep, but he'd been passed out on the rug since not too long after he ate his dinner and, though Carol was affectionate with the animal, she wouldn't be reporting on his sleep patterns.

They had eaten and, after dinner, Henry had helped Carol clean the kitchen while Daryl had pumped water and heated it for baths for everyone. The house was still and quiet now. Daryl was reading one of the books that he snagged from the Hilltop by lamplight while he waited for Carol to finish what felt like her tenth trip around the house to make sure that everything was how she needed it to be before she closed her eyes.

When she came into the room with an air of finality, Daryl put the book on the nightstand and patted the mattress beside him. Carol smiled at him and walked around the bed. She crawled onto her side of the mattress and Daryl waved at her to turn around. She did what he asked and he moved her braid over her shoulder so that he could reach her neck and shoulders to knead the muscles there.

Immediately, she slumped a little with the pleasure and groaned at him in a way that had him mentally telling parts of his body to wait their turn—if they were patient, there was a chance that they might have some input in the way the evening went.

"You glad to have him here," Daryl said.

"I know he's—almost grown," Carol said. "And I know he doesn't need his mother and I probably shouldn't check on him…and he's going to be starting his own life soon…"

"But you love him," Daryl said. "And there's nothin' wrong with that, and it doesn't ruin his chances at having a life because you checked to see if he was sleeping. Right now? It does you good. You've still got knots as big as baseballs in your back and shoulders, but they ain't as tight as they were."

Carol hummed at him.

"Because you're taking such good care of me," she offered.

There was a flutter in Daryl's gut over the words of appreciation and approval.

"I want to," he offered.

"You do," Carol insisted.

"Not like—I want to," Daryl said. He stopped massaging her shoulders and she turned around to look at him. Then she turned her whole body so that she could actually look at him without craning the neck that he'd just worked to relax a little.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"If I had been able to give you everything I wanted to," Daryl said, "then you wouldn't have ever needed to marry the King."

"We were both in different places then," Carol offered.

"I left," Daryl said.

"I did too," Carol said. "In my own way. Maybe we both did. We both—had things to deal with. Maybe we still do. I know—I know there's still so much that I haven't dealt with, Daryl. Not really. There's still so much that I keep stuffing down every time it comes up. Maybe you have the same things to deal with—or your things, but…"

She sighed.

"I know what you mean," Daryl offered.

She laughed to herself.

"I don't know what's wrong with my brain right now," Carol said. "It's like I can't stay on one thought. I just—jump to something else right in the middle of my thought."

"You're tired," Daryl offered. "Tired and you been worried and…you just gotta rest."

"My point was that, maybe, we both left, but we never left each other entirely," Carol said. "And now we're here. I'm not planning on leaving again."

"I don't want to leave," Daryl said. "Want to stay right here—because I know you're happy here. But if I ever do have to leave again, I don't want to leave without you."

Carol smiled at him. She puckered her lips at him and he leaned into her to steal a kiss from her lips.

"Or her?" Carol asked.

"Or her," Daryl said with a laugh. "But I'm not used to the idea that—this ain't always a package deal. I'm not used to the idea that, one day, you and her are going to be two entirely separate people."

"Give it some time," Carol said.

"Henry asked me today if I love you," Daryl said.

"Can I ask you what you told him?" Carol asked.

"If you gotta ask me what I told him, then I done a shittier job at this than I thought," Daryl said. He got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. It functioned for little more than a place to keep a piss bucket and a bowl of water. It was also a decent place for Daryl to stand and smoke so that he at least felt that some of the smoke drifted out of the bathroom window and not back on Carol.

She never complained either way, but he figured he'd do his best to be at least somewhat respectful of the air that was getting filtered through to the baby she carried.

"I know you love me," Carol said. "Or—I believe you do. But…"

"Go ahead," Daryl pressed, lighting his cigarette and pushing Carol to continue talking once she tried to stop.

"I might like to hear it every now and again," Carol offered.

Daryl nodded.

"That's fair," he offered. "I do. I love you. I mean—like I told Henry, I don't have all that much to compare it to, but I know that I love you as much as I've ever loved anybody."

Carol laughed to herself.

"And I love you as much as I've ever loved anybody," Carol said.

"But see, I knew that," Daryl offered.

"Because I say it more often," Carol said. "But—isn't it still nice to hear?"

"It is," Daryl ceded. "And I'ma do better. This is a whole new life, right? For both of us."

"We get to start over," Carol said.

"You might be startin' over," Daryl said. "But it's like I'm not even doing that. This? It's like—nothin' I've ever experienced before. I've never had a…a…a woman before."

Carol smiled. It was sincere, though, and not at all the expression she gave him when she was giving him shit.

"What?" He asked.

"I like the sound of being your woman," Carol offered.

"Shut up," Daryl said. "You want me to call you queen or somethin'? That better?"

"I'm being serious, Daryl," Carol said. "I'd rather be—I'd rather be your woman a thousand times over being the King's queen."

"You know he calls me your beau?" Daryl said. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Carol laughed.

"He calls you my Wildman when you're not around," Carol said. "Do you prefer that?"

Daryl considered it. While he walked a few short paces around the bathroom.

"I do, actually," he said. "You can tell his majesty that I'd rather be a Wildman than a beau if it ain't gonna be my name that comes up most often in his little fantasy land."

"Then I'll make sure that he knows," Carol said. "And I stand by what I said. I'd rather be a Wildman's woman than a King's queen any day."

"I don't know how to do any of this," Daryl said. "I mean—to be a Wildman I don't guess takes much work, but—the rest of this? Being a good man to you and taking care of you like I want, givin' you everything I want, takin' care of…of a baby? Carol, I'm way fuckin' over my head. And I don't know what I'm doing and it kind of makes me feel like I can't breathe."

"Like you want to run for it, again?" Carol asked.

"I'm not going to run," Daryl said. "But that's the feeling."

"You're taking care of me," Carol said. "And I know a little bit about babies, you know. I could teach you what you want to know about—anything. This is new to you, Daryl. But it's new to me, too."

Daryl finished his cigarette and came out of the bathroom. For good measure, he closed the bathroom door behind him to try to get the smoke to waft out of the window in his absence.

"That's just it," Daryl said. "It's not new to you. You know about babies, and you've been married before."

"And the one thing I could teach you about marriage is how not to act," Carol said, "but I don't believe you'd act like that anyway. So, this is all new to me, too. When I was pregnant with Sophia…it was always better if we didn't talk about it. It was certainly better if it wasn't an inconvenience. And Ed didn't want to see pictures of the baby or…any of that."

Daryl came to her side of the bed and sat down. On the nightstand next to her side of the bed was the frame with the pictures in it. Daryl reached and picked it up. He let his eyes trail quickly over the already well-memorized pictures.

"She's my daughter," Daryl mused.

"She is," Carol said. She crawled over behind Daryl and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her chin on his shoulder and he let himself enjoy the hug and the feeling of pure and absolute affection wrapping around him.

"I want you to talk about her," Daryl said. "Makes her feel real."

"It does," Carol agreed.

"Talk about every day," Daryl said. "Whenever you want. And I want you to do whatever you got to do. Whatever you feel like doing. You ain't an inconvenience and she ain't an inconvenience. If it weren't for her? I might still be in the fuckin' woods right now. Mighta wintered hard out there while you was still at the Kingdom. If it weren't for her? We mighta never made it here for more than a night or two. I want you to tell me—everything that you wanted before. Everything you never did and never got…and never got to do. I want'cha to have it all. Do it all. Hell—I might not be perfect, and I might not be able to give you everything, but I want a chance to give you everything I can."

"I think you're pretty close to perfect," Carol offered.

Carol kissed the side of his face softly. A shiver ran through Daryl's body and she laughed quietly. She felt the shiver, too, and she responded to it by teasing him and nipping at his ear before she kissed down his neck. He changed his position slightly as her interest ran through him.

"You tryin' to kill me," he said.

"I'm trying to love you," Carol said.

"You about to start something that you probably don't mean to start," Daryl offered. "You keep kissin' me like that."

Carol laughed quietly and did just that. She kissed him again—soft and wet. She trailed her kisses down his neck, sucking and nipping at his skin.

"Shit…" Daryl responded. "You don't know what the hell you doin' to me."

Carol laughed quietly and blew her breath against his ear. She reached around him and rubbed him through the cotton of his underwear.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Carol said, her mouth close to his ear. "And from the feel of things? I'm not doing it too badly. Daryl—did you get around to oiling the springs like you said you would?"

"First damn thing I done when we got here," Daryl said. "When I come in here to unpack some of that shit Ezekiel sent from the Kingdom."

Carol moved around Daryl then and pushed his shoulders so that he simply got onto the bed to make things easier for her. Teasing to draw it out and enjoy it longer was one thing—it was something they both enjoyed—but there was no need in pretending that either of them had any doubt where this was headed. As soon as he was more accessible, Carol leapt toward him and kissed him hard.

There was a certain type of aggression in Carol's kisses that hadn't always been there. Maybe it came from the baby she carried. Maybe it came from the fact that they were unpacked and settled in the little house. Maybe it came from the confidence that Henry wasn't going to turn his back on her and Daryl wasn't going to leave her—even as far as the Kingdom, she was keeping her security. Maybe it was a bit of everything.

But Daryl appreciated the touch of aggression and hoped that it stayed, especially as it blended with the tenderness that he usually found with her.

Carol took his hand and guided it to the band of her cotton panties. He rubbed the skin there for a moment before he slipped his hand further down. His fingers slid through the soft curls and found the spot she wanted him to find. She panted into his mouth before returning to the kiss and he worked the nub she'd sent him after. Then, he surprised her by sliding his hand forward and, finding his way through the slick folds of skin, he quickly hooked his finger inside of her and worked the nub with his thumb.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she broke the kiss with a gasp for air.

"Is that bad or good?" Daryl asked. He froze, not sure what to do.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, but he could feel her muscles squeezing him. She rocked her hips and Daryl returned to what he was doing. She went for his underwear and, tugging at it, she told Daryl what she wanted. She allowed him his hand back, trailing wetness between them, and he came out of his underwear while she slipped hers off.

She was on top of him and had him fully seated inside her before he could even offer to help.

He tugged at her nightgown.

"I hate this nightgown," he offered.

She laughed, moving her hips.

"What would you rather I wore?" She asked, helping him rid her of the offending garment.

"Nothing," Daryl said. "But—there's gotta be somethin' better we can find you. Potato sack—bedsheet. Hefty bag."

Carol put her hands on his chest and worked her hips.

"Whatever you want," she offered, "I'll wear."

"Sweet…fuck…" Daryl stammered out. "Holy…fuck…you really just…got this on your own."

Carol laughed, only stopping to growl out her own satisfaction.

"I can stop," she offered.

Daryl wasn't sure, though, how true that was. He didn't want to find out, though. He dug his fingers into the soft skin of her ass to help support her as she searched for what she wanted which, happily, turned out to be everything that Daryl needed. She came first, but when her walls pulsed around him, Daryl lost any control that he had left.

Panting, she fell forward on him and he did little more than rearrange himself so that she could lay against him comfortably. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while they both waited for their breathing to return to normal.

"I love you," Carol offered.

Daryl smiled to himself. It was his turn to put his money where his mouth was and use the words.

"I love you," he assured her. He was certain that it would become easier and easier to put voice to the feeling. He smiled to himself and squeezed her gently. "And—you only love me for the oxytocin."

Carol laughed. The laughter shook Daryl, too.

"That's not true," she said, kissing his neck where she could reach it.

"I know," Daryl agreed. She laughed again. "What?"

"I also love you for—your ability to stop the bed from creaking," Carol offered.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl opened his eyes and felt the familiar twinge in his stomach—almost akin to the shock of realizing, suddenly, that he was falling when he thought he was on solid ground—that came with the view of a ceiling over his head. When he slept, his mind forgot where he was. He was so accustomed to waking up and seeing the canvas of his tent that he expected it when he woke now. A few days out of the tent wasn't enough to erase the conditioning of years.

Immediately, though, the shock wore off. He felt a hand press against his chest in a warm and soothing way. He didn't even need to look at her to know that she was there. She was touching him. She'd seen him jump upon waking and she'd pressed the hand gently to his chest as a quiet reminder that he wasn't alone—in the best way possible.

Daryl sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Her fingers brushed across his skin.

He rolled slightly to the side to look at her.

She had gone to bed with her hair in a neat braid. A couple of rounds of oxytocin-seeking, though, and a night of hard sleep meant that much of her hair had escaped her attempts to confine it. Some of it looped and curled and knotted over itself. Some of it stuck out as though she'd been recently electrocuted. Most of it spilled over the pillow where she rested her head and over the blanket that she'd pulled up over shoulders.

She touched him with one hand, and the other was tucked her head. Beneath the cover, Daryl was faintly aware of the coolness of the sheets—a testament to the fact that the fresh air coming in through the cracked windows was starting to mark the chill of a coming autumn—and the feeling of her foot brushing lightly against his shin and foot.

There was only the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Her eyes were slightly puffy with the recently departure of sleep. All of her other features looked as relaxed as he'd ever seen them.

Looking at her, at that moment, it made Daryl even more irritated that the Hilltop doctor—the only doctor currently available to any of them—had suggested that anything about Carol might be geriatric. She looked, to Daryl and in the moment, to barely be old enough to make it suitable that she was even in his bed—less likely that she was carrying his child and already the mother to a practically grown boy.

"Did something startle you?" Carol asked quietly.

"Not used to it yet," Daryl admitted. His voice practically sounded rocky. His vocal cords were still sleeping.

"Regrets?" Carol asked.

He took her hand from his chest and she curled her fingers around his as he pulled her hand upward. He kissed her fingers.

"No," he said, careful to make sure that there was enough force behind the word that she wouldn't doubt him. She smiled sincerely and readjusted her position just a little. He felt her foot brush affectionately against his leg again. He smirked at her and raised his eyebrows. "A little terrified, though. How long you been lookin' at me while I was asleep?"

Her face told him the journey that she went through. She worried, for a moment, that he was serious. She was sorry for looking at him and maybe bothering him in some way. Then she registered that he was teasing and relaxed a little.

"I've been awake for a little while," Carol said. "I had to pee. I couldn't hold it and then—I couldn't go back to sleep."

"So, you just been layin' there?" Daryl asked.

"It was quiet," Carol said. "And…cold. And I was just thinking—how good it felt."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Carol said. Her cheeks blushed a light pink and the smiled returned to her features. Daryl's heart suddenly started to beat a little faster. He didn't want to do anything to disturb the feeling that had settled down around and between them both. It was like a cloud had settled in like a fog of happiness.

At least, Daryl knew that he felt happy. It was an odd sensation in his gut, and he was still learning to accept its presence there.

"You happy?" Daryl asked.

"Mmmmhmmm," Carol hummed. "Why wouldn't I be?" She asked. "Henry is sleeping in the other room and…you're here."

"You cold?" Daryl asked, noticing the way she had the blanket caught between her neck and shoulder. She was naked beneath it, as was he. He didn't know, though, if her attachment to the cover had to do with being cold or enjoying the comfort it offered.

"Mmmhmmm," Carol hummed again. "A little."

As if to illustrate her point, she shivered slightly and rooted into the bed. It wasn't cold, exactly. They kept the windows in the little house raised to keep air circulating throughout. Otherwise the house got stuffy and things started to mold and mildew where moisture got trapped inside.

"Come on over here," Daryl said. "Let me warm you up."

Carol looked pleased with the idea and worked her body over toward Daryl. He rearranged himself so that she could rest her head on his arm. She laid on her back and he laid on his side, somewhat able to wrap around her as he pleased.

"This OK?" She asked.

"You comfortable?" He asked.

"Are you?" She challenged.

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed.

"I mean—being here," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You done asked me that once," he offered. "I gotta answer it every five minutes from now until—until forever or whatever?"

"Maybe just once or twice more," Carol said. Daryl heard a hint of teasing in her voice, but there was something that made him feel like even her teasing was forced.

There were plenty of things that he needed reassurance about, especially in their relationship, and he didn't know how long he'd require that of Carol. He needed reassurance that she didn't regret her decision to give up her marriage—even though it had been a ruse—to Ezekiel. He needed reassurance that—even though he had a great deal to learn and wanted to learn much more—he was doing well at being the kind of man that she could and would voluntarily spend the rest of her life with. He needed reassurance that he was able to be everything he wanted to be.

She offered him reassurance whenever he needed it or wanted it. He could offer her reassurance when she needed it, too.

"I got no regrets," Daryl offered. "Right now? I'm the happiest I ever remember bein' since I even had memories. You got regrets?"

"I just told you I was happy," Carol said with a laugh.

"Maybe you just tell me once or twice more," Daryl said, he nuzzled against her face and she hummed in satisfaction.

"I have everything I could need or want," Carol said. "I don't think I could be happier."

Daryl slipped his free hand under the cover that he was careful to keep pulled up for warmth. He let his fingers slide over Carol's breasts—one and then the other—stopping only long enough to tease her nipples until she moaned at him and they stood at attention. He felt the goosebumps rise up on her skin as he ghosted his fingers down her body and found the gentle swell of her belly. He rested his hand over her skin.

"You didn't mention her," Daryl said.

"What?" Carol asked.

"You mentioned Henry," Daryl said. "You mentioned me. But you ain't said that she makes you happy."

"I forget she's there," Carol said. She lifted enough to free her hand from under her head and against Daryl's arm. She brought it down to rest over Daryl's hand. "Michael said I should be able to feel her."

"He said if you'd get still and calm and stop just tellin' yourself you couldn't feel her, then you'd prob'ly feel her," Daryl said. "He thinks you doin' it with your mind. That you're makin' yourself not feel her."

"He thinks it's psychosomatic or something that I can't feel her," Carol said, continuing to echo a few of the words that the doctor had offered on his numerous visits, during their day at the Hilltop, when he'd come to check Carol's vitals.

"You scared, so you're dealin' with that by ignoring her presence," Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself. She closed her eyes and sunk back against Daryl's arm. She rooted into him a little. Daryl didn't know if it was in search of warmth or comfort, but he'd gladly give her both.

"I want to feel her," Carol said. She practically breathed out the words. "So badly, Daryl. I want to feel her little…her little kicks and rolls. I want to know she's there and growing and—happy."

"So, relax," Daryl said softly. "Keep calm. Feel her."

"I'm as calm and happy as I think it's possible to be right now," Carol said. "And—nothing."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Maybe she's asleep," he offered. "Hell—I mean she can't run around in there all the time, can she? Gotta sleep sometimes. And you've been pretty tightly strung for a while. Maybe you bein' happy an' all feels good to her an' she just wants to be happy and sleep."

Carol opened her eyes and smiled at him. She raised her eyebrows slightly.

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed. Her words struck him. Her tone, too, struck him. She was teasing, but she wasn't really teasing him.

"Thought about it most the night," Daryl said. "About what we talked about last night. Ed—had everything. You and Sophia. And he just threw that shit away."

"Ed didn't want what he had," Carol said. "He wanted better."

Daryl could feel an acute shortness of breath aching in his lungs as he tested the words he dared to say before he let them leave his mouth. His body felt a little weak with the anticipation of Carol's reaction to the words. Even though part of him knew that she would want to hear them, another part of him deeply feared her rejection at the precise moment when he mustered up the courage to release them into the world.

"No such thing," he offered.

Carol responded with a warm smile.

"You might change your mind," Carol said. "I've been told that—living with me is what does it."

She meant to tease him, but the reality of her words hit him like a hard blow to the gut.

"Don't'cha say that no more," Daryl said. "I heard his fuckin' voice just now—an' I don't want him in my house an' I damn sure don't want him in my bed."

"OK," Carol said softly. She didn't really have to say anything else. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

"I meant what I said," Daryl said. "About—I wanna know about all of it. Everything you feel. Everything you never done. Everything you wanted to do. I wanna know—how the hell I do this right. Be good to you. To Henry, even. To her."

"I think you're off to a really good start," Carol said.

The sincerity of her words, the smile that followed them, and the look in her eyes all released a rush of warmth that flooded through Daryl's chest.

"Yeah?" He asked softly. He moved his hand enough to rub it over her skin where it still rested on her belly. She bunched her fingers, rubbing his beneath her own.

"Yeah," she assured him. "I—wish you could feel her."

Daryl's stomach tightened. One day there would be something there. One day he'd feel the baby in question as she grew inside her mother.

One day she'd be there and he'd hold her in his arms. He could barely imagine such a thing.

"You gotta feel her first," Daryl said. "I'm ready for that—because then you can tell me all about when she's up to somethin' and what she's doing."

Carol smiled to herself.

"You'd get tired of hearing about it," Carol offered.

"Why don't you do me a favor," Daryl offered, trying to bite back the little bit of frustration that surged inside him, "and let me decide what I get tired of and what I don't?" Carol looked more than a little scolded. "I'm sorry—but I do get tired of you tellin' me what I'm gonna like or not like."

Carol could make her face like a wall when she wanted to. She could erase every last trace of emotion from her features. She steeled herself against whatever was coming next—or whatever she might imagine or fear was coming next. She steeled herself against whatever she might feel inside. Daryl felt her body tense. It would have been imperceptible if he hadn't been holding her so close.

The only thing that really gave away any emotion was her eyes. Someone had once said that eyes were the windows to the soul. The words had always stuck with Daryl since the first time he'd heard them. Carol was the first person, though, that had ever truly taught him what that meant. In her eyes, he could see everything.

"Sorry," he offered. "But I'm not Ed."

"I know you're not," Carol said.

"But sometimes you forget," Daryl said.

"I don't forget," Carol said.

"But you get afraid," Daryl said. She didn't respond and she didn't have to. Her eyes told him what he needed to know. He nodded his head. "I understand," he said. "Better'n you think."

"I know," Carol said.

"I get afraid you gonna—change your mind," Daryl said. "Decide I'm not good enough. Realize you could do better."

"I couldn't ever do better," Carol offered. "I've got the best."

"I get afraid you're gonna—regret everything we've ever done," Daryl said. "Just—be gone. Like everybody else."

Under the cover, Carol moved her fingers to hook them around his hand. She squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture, both of their hands still resting against her body.

"I'm not going to change my mind," she said. "You can believe me."

"Yeah—well, I'm not gonna get tired of you," Daryl said. "You can believe me, too. And—I'm not a liar. I meant what I said. I know what I want."

Carol nodded her head.

"Maybe I just don't know what to share," she said. "I don't feel sick anymore. Not really at all. And I woke up this morning and—she's still there, even though I'm sometimes afraid that she won't be. I'm feeling good. Happy. Hopeful. I missed out on all that when I was pregnant with Sophia. Most of the time, when I was carrying Sophia, I just felt—afraid. Cautious. Like I didn't want to wake the bear."

"There ain't no bears here," Daryl offered. "But I get what you sayin'. It's safe here, though. I'ma see to that. To the best of my ability. We both know a lot more than we used to about this world. This? We can do this. So—the only thing I want you to do right now is do what Michael said. Focus on listenin' to you. To her. Figure out what you want an' need. And then—you let me know."

Carol nodded her head. She picked her head up and Daryl realized what she wanted. He met her for a kiss and let her draw it out as much as she pleased. She squeezed his fingers beneath the blanket while she kissed him.

"Your son's gonna be up soon," Daryl offered as he broke the kiss. "If he ain't already up. An' if she ain't up? She's gonna be up soon, too. I'ma go see what I can do about breakfast."

"I should cook breakfast," Carol said.

"I'm more'n capable of cooking breakfast," Daryl said. "I wouldn't mind the company, though."

"First official family breakfast?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Sounds good to me," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Henry warned Daryl and Carol both that he would be returning to the Kingdom for a few days, but he fully intended to return to the little house without much delay. He wanted to live his life in both places, and Daryl was thankful that he announced, so clearly, his intentions. Carol, Daryl knew, wouldn't mind where Henry wanted to spend his time or how often he wanted to traipse from one location to another. The only thing that would keep her awake at night was not knowing where Henry was, not knowing if he was angry with her, and not knowing if he intended to return.

Henry swiftly and easily put her doubts to bed. He would be with either her or his father—an individual who was likely to visit the little house as often as Henry did. He wasn't angry anymore, though he admitted to still needing time to adjust to the fact that his parents were living divided lives that, sometimes and in some ways, intercepted. And he fully intended to return with regularity. He didn't mean to be gone long enough to make his mother worry or miss him too much.

To try and make it clear to Henry, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted him there and expected his return, Daryl had taken Henry out into the yard to look at the surrounding area. They could clear it. They could build additional fences. They could create farmland and even, across the road, room for a nice pasture. They could create something self-sustaining for their small family unit that would keep them from having to rely so heavily on the Kingdom to feed them. If they were fortunate, they could also produce something to give back to the neighboring community.

Daryl gave Henry responsibility—something the teenager seemed to be craving—in the form of asking him to make inquiries about acquiring the supplies necessary to build the fences and the barn. Then, he made the request of him that he return soon to help him start building the life that he wanted to provide for Carol. He reminded Henry that the sooner they started working, after all, the sooner Henry's mother could have a milk cow, and the sooner they could be sure that they would be able to count on planting a garden for the coming year.

When Henry left, he'd left happy with his assignment. He'd allowed Daryl to walk him back to the Kingdom to keep Carol secure in the knowledge that he was safe, and Daryl had allowed Jerry to haul him back to the little house in the wagon when Jerry had insisted on making the trip.

Dusk was beginning to settle around them as they arrived at the house, and it was cooling dramatically. When fall settled over Virginia, it brought with it a cool crispness that was different than the lingering summer that Georgia usually saw throughout most of the transitional season.

Daryl could smell the smoke in the cool air as they approached the house—evidence that Carol would have the fire going when he got there. He smiled to himself as they rode, realizing how incredibly domestic his life had become in the blink of an eye.

When he glanced at Jerry, the big man was grinning at him without shame.

"What?" Daryl asked. "What the hell you lookin' at?"

"His Majesty has told me how much you love the Queen," Jerry offered. "I'm glad to see you're so pleased with our approach to the residence."

Daryl shook his head.

"You aren't like a total headcase," Daryl said. "So, you understand it's all make believe, right? The whole—King and Queen thing?"

Jerry continued to smile at him.

"You understand that nothing's really any more real than we believe it to be, right?" Jerry offered.

Daryl accepted the man's words after a second of chewing them over.

"Known her for years," Daryl said. "Feels like—maybe even a few lifetimes. Doesn't seem like the same life now as I was living back then. When I first met her."

"And how long have you loved her?" Jerry asked.

"Usually I'd ask you to buy me a drink for we started talkin' this serious about my damn love life," Daryl offered in response. Jerry looked unbothered and undeterred. Daryl sighed. The man was large, he was friendly, and Carol had an incredible soft spot for him. Daryl already knew that he would count on the man to make him feel better by simply promising to stay near Carol if, for any reason, he had to leave her alone. He might as well count him as a friend. And, apparently, Jerry enjoyed a good love story as much as the next Kingdom-dweller. "I don't know if I believe in love at first sight, exactly. Maybe that's mostly because I had my hands full back then and she did too. But—it wasn't long after I met her that I…maybe love isn't the right word. But I knew something."

Jerry seemed satisfied with the answer. He smiled to himself and looked ahead as he slowly walked the horses down the road. It was familiar to Daryl and already starting to feel like home.

In the back of the wagon, a jug of milk rode along with two casseroles and two cobblers that King Ezekiel had insisted Daryl take to Carol. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that the jug of milk hadn't tipped over and leaked into the back of the wagon. Carol would be pleased to see it. She'd mentioned milk earlier in the day—twice—and she could at least enjoy some of it that night.

"The Princess enjoys cobbler," Jerry mused.

Daryl hummed.

"Or Carol does," Daryl offered.

"The Queen has always enjoyed sweets," Jerry said, "but she's rarely indulged. It's the Princess that convinces her to eat what she wants."

"If that's the case, then the Princess is in the mood for milk, too," Daryl said, reaching behind him and steadying the jug that he feared would tip as they rolled over the slightly rough road. He could see the chimney of the house and the smoke rising up. They'd be there in a matter of minutes. He didn't want to lose Carol's surprise with the house in sight.

"I'll let the King know," Jerry said. "He'll be happy to have something to offer the Queen and the Princess."

"He'da found somethin'," Daryl said. "I'm sure."

When they reached the house, Jerry pulled the wagon to a stop outside the gate and locked the wheels so the horses wouldn't move forward. He took the casseroles and cobblers from the back when Daryl reached for the milk jug.

"I got it," Daryl offered, though he really wasn't sure how to carry all of it. Jerry didn't even entertain him. Instead, he immediately went toward the gate, shifted the four dishes in his arms, and opened the gate to let Daryl inside. Then he followed happily after Daryl with the food.

Carol met them both at the door and rushed to take the dishes from Jerry. He bypassed her entirely, though, and took them inside. Daryl followed after him and left the jug in the kitchen. For the moment, he ignored Carol's questions about what he'd brought, and urged her to say her goodbyes to Jerry since he knew the man expected her affections.

"Jerry's gotta be gettin' back to the Kingdom," Daryl said. "Gettin' dark an' he don't wanna get stuck out there with the team."

"I wish you weren't alone," Carol said.

She was suddenly much more concerned than she would have normally allowed herself to be. She would have, perhaps, hidden it better in the past. This time, she wrapped her arms very affectionately around Jerry's neck and hugged him, stepping up on her tiptoes as he hugged her back. He smiled, pleased with the affection, but looked at Daryl with raised eyebrows that told Daryl that he was also surprised by how much affection he was receiving.

"I'll be fine my queen," Jerry assured her.

She gave him a fake annoyed look, and Daryl thought he saw some dampness glitter in her eyes. She turned quickly to face Daryl.

"You should have asked for someone else to ride so that Jerry wasn't going back alone," she scolded.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I'm not his keeper," Daryl said. "It was his choice to come alone. I didn't even ask for a ride. I was gonna walk back until what I was bringin' back just kept growin'."

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl caught Jerry's movements. With a broad smile across his lips, Jerry rocked an invisible baby and patted his somewhat remarkable belly. When he patted his belly, Carol turned to see what he was doing, and he covered it over by pretending to scratch an itch.

"I'll enjoy the ride," Jerry said. "And I'll be back, safely inside the Kingdom's fences, before it's dark enough to worry. Sleep well."

Jerry offered Carol another hug, which she took, and then he patted her belly without invitation. She didn't seem to mind, though, and instead she smiled at his tender gesture. She walked him out to the porch and stood there watching until he'd stepped out of the gate, secured it behind himself, mounted the wagon, and started back toward the Kingdom. Then she called Dog back from his trip around the yard. He'd already pissed on everything, there was no need for him to linger too long.

When they stepped back inside, Carol went to the kitchen and let Daryl know that there was hot water, even though he'd already seen it on the stove when he'd passed through before. They had a metal tub that was large enough to use as a bathtub that Carol had snagged from the Kingdom when she'd first started staying in the house. Daryl pulled it down and helped her to put enough of the hot water and some cooled water to make a decent bath for herself.

Preferring to wash the old-fashioned way with a rag and a pot of water, Daryl simply stood on a towel in the kitchen and bathed—allowing the heat from the wood stove to keep the room warm for both of them—while Carol bathed, in the kitchen, in her tub. He certainly didn't mind the view, though she didn't seem to even notice him ogling her as she piled her hair high on her head and tied it up before stripping off her clothes and easing herself down into the metal tub.

She was incredibly beautiful, and Daryl wanted to tell her so, but the words got stuck in his throat. The words remained stuck there even as he dried and dressed in clean clothes, emptied Carol's tub, and put it back against the wall until she needed it again. When she'd left the room, he'd set about warming milk on the stove.

Daryl only managed to get his words unstuck whenever Carol came back from the bedroom where she'd exchanged her towel for a nightgown.

Daryl smiled when he saw her. Her hair was still piled on top of her head and tied there. Bits of it spilled out and curled around itself in places. In place of the hideous, over-sized monstrosity that she'd been wearing to sleep, she was wearing one of his long-sleeved button-up shirts. It was light blue and it was over-sized, but it hung over her body in a much more pleasing way. The shirt was large, even for Daryl, and it stopped just over the tops of Carol's thighs. The buttons that ran down the front of it drew a crooked line as they did their best to march over the slight swell of her stomach.

Daryl's stomach knotted up at the sight of her. She smiled at him.

"Better?" She asked. "You said you hated my nightgown, but...I didn't have anything else."

"Beautiful," Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself.

"I didn't know you were so attached to the shirt," she teased. Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself at the way she wiggled a little nervously on her sock-covered feet.

"Weren't talkin' about the shirt," Daryl said. "You look—incredible. But I don't want you catchin' your death just because you walkin' around without pants."

"There's a blanket on the couch," Carol offered. "And the fire."

"Milk's warm," Daryl offered, pouring it into mugs. He had absolutely no desire to drink the milk—nor to eat any of the casserole or cobbler he fully intended to practically force Carol to consume in large quantities—but he'd have a little of everything because he knew that she wouldn't want it if she was the only one that was partaking.

Carol's soft smile renewed. She rubbed her hand over her belly. Daryl wasn't even sure if she realized she'd performed the gesture.

"That's what's in the jug? You brought milk for me?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head.

"For you an' her," Daryl said. "And casserole so you don't got to cook nothin' tonight. And cobbler—'cause I know you both like it."

If such a thing had been possible, Daryl would have sworn that Carol's big blue eyes grew even bigger as she stood there looking at him. He felt a little overwhelmed by the feelings that surged up inside of him.

But they were safe, and she was happy, and it was time to start making this truly feel like their home. It was time to start accepting everything that neither of them had ever fully believed was possible.

Daryl picked up the mugs of warmed milk and squeezed them in his hands. He didn't want the milk to cool down too much before she had a chance to drink it.

"Let's go in the den," Daryl said. "Get that blanket. Don't want'cha to get cold."

Carol smiled at him, but she turned and left the kitchen at his request.

"Oh, I have a feeling I'll be plenty warm," she offered, obeying his request and heading for the living room while he brought the mugs.

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**AN: This is an odd thing to say, but I'm kind of ignoring Carol's wig on the show, especially the old one. I always imagined Carol's hair would be curly (like Melissa's) if she were to grow it out. So it shall be in my story. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! **


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Maybe the baby she carried made her tired. Maybe it was simply carrying a baby at her age that assured that she had relatively little energy before it was dramatically late in the evening. Maybe it was simply because, for once, absolutely everything was right in her world for just a single moment, and her body was seeking to relax entirely in the precious peace that she'd found.

Or maybe it was simply because Daryl had seen to it that she ate her way through a large helping of casserole, a large helping of cobbler, and then he'd had her wash it all down with a second mug of warm milk. The result of which was that, almost full to bursting, Carol was entering into something of a food coma.

Whatever the reason, she stretched out on the couch with her body against Daryl's. He held her as much in his arms as he possibly could. He vaguely had to piss, and one of his legs was somewhat going to sleep, but he'd stay in just that position for the rest of the night if she'd remain there, like that, curled up in his arms.

Her eyes were barely slits. Her eyelids were visibly heavy. With her head resting against him, though, she seemed content to hover just outside of sleep.

Daryl moved the one hand he felt wasn't supporting her to rest it on her belly, under the blanket. He spread his fingers out and covered the majority of the bump that marked the presence of their growing daughter. Carol sucked in a breath and sighed it out, slowly and steadily, before she covered his hand with her own. Daryl smiled to himself and at her by extension.

"Hard to believe she's there," Daryl said.

"She's there," Carol breathed out.

"She's growin'," Daryl offered.

"That's mostly just food," Carol said, yawning to close out her words.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"But it's the food that's gonna help her grow," Daryl said. "You keep eatin' like that an' she's gonna be big and strong."

"If I keep eating like that," Carol said, "I'm going to be huge. I don't know about her."

"This ain't the damned time to worry about dieting," Daryl said. "You eat anything and everything she wants. Everything you want. Long as we got it."

Carol rooted into him a bit more.

"Are you happy she's a…girl?" Carol asked.

Daryl heard hesitation in her voice. She stammered over the word in a way that made his stomach muscles bunch in reaction. Under the blanket, he moved his fingers enough to find the bottom of the shirt she was wearing—his shirt turned hers—and he slipped it up enough to let his fingertips touch her warm, bare skin.

Beneath her skin, perhaps not too far that he couldn't feel the baby if he knew what he was feeling for, the tiny figure he'd seen sucking her fingers and trying to hide was sleeping. However she went about doing the things she needed to do, she was drinking in the nutrition that her mother would provide to her from the filling meal. She was enjoying the relaxed vibes her mother was putting out, and, maybe, she was hopeful for a hit of the hormone that theoretically made both of them feel at least a little euphoric.

Daryl didn't know if the baby had any actual sentience or if, in reality, she was just some kind of unthinking creature that didn't have any actual consciousness until she came into the world. But it made him happy to think of her as being fully aware and fully an individual.

"I think about Judith," Daryl said. "When she was born and…what she is now. I think about Sophia." He noticed Carol's shifting as she readjusted herself and he didn't complain that she reminded him of his rapidly filling bladder. "I couldn't imagine her being anything else. You want me to be honest? When we went in there, I didn't know what I wanted one way or another. Hell—I don't think I had even really accepted that there was a real baby growin' inside you and that it could really be mine."

"But you do now?" Carol asked.

"I saw her," Daryl said, smiling to himself. "Same as you. I can't deny what I saw."

"And now you're happy she's…you didn't want a boy?" Carol asked.

"Once I knew she was a girl," Daryl said, "I realized that's what I wanted all along. I just didn't know it." 

"Ed would have preferred if Sophia had been a boy," Carol said. "He would have preferred to have a junior, you know?"

"Don't half the people alive care what anybody's name is these days," Daryl offered. "And I don't give a shit if anybody remembers me or my last name. It ain't like Dixon's no amazing name to have, I guess. Plenty of bad shit connected to it, I guess."

"I like it," Carol offered. "Daryl Dixon. It's a beautiful name to me."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"It'd sound better if—you were to take it," Daryl said. "Carol Dixon don't sound too bad."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Carol Dixon?"

"You prefer Her Majesty?" Daryl asked, a little offended by her tone of voice. Carol pulled away from him and sat up, sitting beside him on the couch. She raised her eyebrows at him half in amusement and half in warning that she intended to scold him if necessary.

"What I'd prefer is if you didn't throw that in my face every time you got the chance," Carol responded. Daryl felt the sting of her words.

Now that his hands were free and there was a small plot of couch between them, Daryl held his hands up in mock surrender.

"I gotta piss," he warned Carol, "but when I get back, we gonna continue this. I ain't throwin' nothin' in your face. Just—tellin' you I wish you'd at least consider…ya know…takin' my name. Usin' it."

Daryl got up and opened the door to the house. He let Dog out since the animal immediately bounded toward the door. He stepped out onto the porch and followed the dog into the yard. He chose his own spot to piss in the dark yard while Dog ran around and did his business before a quick border patrol of the whole fenced in area.

Around them, Daryl heard nothing but silence. He smelled nothing but the smoke of the fireplace drifting out the chimney.

Maybe Carol was a touch hormonal and a touch too defensive, but Daryl decided that he wasn't going to point that out to her. He also wasn't going to use that as a way of dismissing her entirely. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did have a few lingering bitter feelings over the fact that anyone had had some of her affections in the past.

When he whistled for Dog, the dog came back and happily bounded up the steps and into the house. He went directly to the bed in front of the fire that Carol had made for him. Daryl lit one of the lamps they carried around and went directly into the kitchen to wash his hands in the pot full of washing water that waited there.

Carol was gone, but not for long. She emerged from the dark bedroom with a pair of gray knit pants covering her legs. She washed her hands in the same pot that Daryl had used. She likely had gone to piss in the bathroom bucket instead of pissing in the yard like Daryl.

Daryl dried his hands on his pants and then he touched her face, brushing a piece of her hair back and tucking it behind her ear.

"You really pissed at me?" He asked.

"I just wish you'd give me time to—to think. To speak. Before you're ready to throw everything into my face."

"That's fair," Daryl offered. "Just—I get jealous sometimes. You were married to Ed. Then you did whatever the hell you were doin' with Tobin."

"You weren't interested," Carol said. "No matter how hard I tried. There never had to be a Tobin."

"I wasn't ready," Daryl said.

"And I needed something," Carol said. She wouldn't look at him. "You know I didn't love him."

"Which one we talkin' about?" Daryl asked.

"Tobin," Carol said. "Ed at the end. I loved him when we got married, though. I won't lie about that."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Daryl said. "I wouldn't hold it against you if you loved Tobin. Hell—at least I'd know you were happy."

"I wanted you," Carol said simply. "But you didn't want me."

"I always wanted you," Daryl said. "I just didn't know what the hell to do about it." Carol looked at him. The flame flickering in the little lamp on the table reflected the tears puddling in her eyes. Daryl reached his hand up and touched her face. "Can we leave the past where the hell it is? Just for a while? Not spend half the damn night diggin' up bones? I wouldn't trade this…what's comin'? For all them years I was too damned dumb to have."

She covered his hand with hers and leaned her face into him. He felt the warm tear that escaped her eye and slid down her face to touch against his palm. She turned her face and kissed his palm where the tear had trailed.

"You want me to take your name?" She asked. He hummed at her.

"Not like nobody would care or know," Daryl said. "But…"

"We would know," Carol offered.

"We would," Daryl agreed. "I'd want the baby to take my name too, even if—she weren't a Junior."

Carol smiled at him. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand when she moved her face away from his hand. He dropped that same hand to her shoulder to squeeze at her muscles.

"I think—I wanted her to be a boy," Carol said.

"You ain't happy with her?" Daryl asked. "Because she ain't a boy? You don't want her or something?"

Carol shook her head.

"It isn't that," she said. "It isn't anything like that…but…"

"Go ahead," Daryl urged when Carol hesitated. She excused herself a moment to rummage through a drawer near her and to come up with one of the cloth napkins that was little more than a handkerchief. She wiped at her face. "What is it, if it ain't that?" Daryl pressed.

"Boys live," Carol said.

"What?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders at him and frowned at her handkerchief.

"I lost Sophia," Carol said. "But—Lori never lost Carl as a child. No matter how much he disappeared or ran away or…did what he wanted to do. The world never got to him. He got to grow up. But the world—it got to Lizzie. And Lizzie got to Mika. And…I lost them all. I thought I'd lose Henry, but…thank God I haven't. Thank God he's a boy and he's…he's made it…"

Daryl wrapped his arms around Carol and pulled her close to him. She came awkwardly, but she allowed him to hold her.

"None of 'em lived or died 'cause they were boys or girls," Daryl offered. "Not one of 'em. It was just the world, Carol. It was what the hell was gonna happen. Good luck and bad."

Carol pulled away and frowned deeply at Daryl. She ran her hand over the swell of her belly. She left it resting over the spot where their daughter was, hopefully, napping and not experiencing the same suffering that her mother was currently undergoing.

"It's me. If it's just luck, Daryl—I have bad luck with girls," Carol said.

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head at her. "That ain't true."

"It is true," Carol said. "And now—she's…"

"She's fine," Daryl said. "Needs to get bigger. Needs to grow more. But you got her tucked in there safe and sound." He shook his head at her. "And Judith—she's doin' just fine. You had as big a hand in carin' for her as anybody."

"She's got everybody else," Carol said.

"And her?" Daryl asked, gesturing toward Carol's belly. "She's got a whole fuckin' Kingdom ready to rise up an' fight for her ass. Got a Mama that's the strongest woman I've ever known." Carol shook her head at him, but Daryl ignored her. "And the name might not mean a lot," Daryl said, "and it might not have produced fuckin' kings, but there's one thing Dixons are—and that's some tough damn individuals. Can't nobody kill a Dixon but a Dixon." The words seemed to calm Carol a little. Slowly some of the tension released itself from her face. Daryl smiled at her, hoping to bring her around to the lightness she'd enjoyed earlier. He reached his hand out and touched her face. She flinched slightly. She hadn't flinched away from him in a long time. Tonight was waking up a lot of old demons. He gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. "What you say?" He asked. "You gonna be a Dixon, too? I don't know nobody that could carry the name—or carry a future Dixon, for that matter—better…"

"Does that mean you want me to be your wife?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself. Everything about her flooded his senses with happiness—real happiness. Even dealing with the troubles of their pasts together didn't seem so bad if he could do it with her.

"You're already my best friend," he said. "My fuckin' life. So whatever else you wanna be…"

Carol smiled at him. She leaned forward and he tasted the kiss she pressed to his lips. He smiled at her when she pulled away.

"That a yes?" He asked, catching her hands in his.

"I think—we're as married as we can be," Carol said. "Unless—you want a big show of things? You want to—give a…two-hour long speech like His Majesty?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I'd rather skip the speech and take my wife to bed," Daryl offered. He patted her stomach. "If you think—she's asleep an' it won't bother her."

Carol smiled at him.

"About that," she said, breathing out the words and holding his eyes with her own. Her eyes glittered in the lamplight and Daryl could see that she was watching him without blinking. She wanted to see his reaction. Maybe she even feared it a little. "I—might've lied before. Because I was scared."

"About?" Daryl asked, his stomach churning with the possibility.

"I can feel her," Carol admitted. "Not all the time and—not too strong, but I can feel her."

Daryl laughed at the relief that washed over him that the confession wasn't something horrible.

"Why'd you lie about it?" Daryl asked.

"Because I was scared," Carol admitted. "And I was scared that—if I admitted I could feel her, then I had to admit she was real and…it would hurt more when…"

Daryl nodded his understanding and shushed her to stop her before she could say something that would only hurt her more—and would hurt him to hear. He looped his arm around her before he reached for the lamp.

"She's real," Daryl said. "And you ain't kryptonite. She movin' now?"

"A little bit," Carol admitted. "I think."

"Then let's go to bed," Daryl said. "Enjoy it. You can tell me—all about it. Where you feel it. What it feels like. And then, when she's gone on off to sleep? We'll see if we can't get her a shot of oxytocin to help her sleep better."

Carol laughed at him and leaned into him as she walked.

"Daryl…" She said.

"Hmmm," he hummed.

"Thanks for making me feel better," she offered sincerely.

"Did it work?"

"I think it did," Carol said.

"You still scared?" Daryl asked.

"A little," she admitted.

Daryl laughed to himself and squeezed her.

"Fine," he said. "Because I'm fuckin' terrified."

Carol laughed instead of being offended. She stopped walking and he looked at her, holding the lamp so that it illuminated her face.

"Are you serious?" She asked.

"I'm so damned scared I could piss myself. I have a home, a wife, a dog, a step-son…and a baby girl on the way. I've got everything I ever could have wanted, and I don't have a fuckin' clue what I'm doing right now."

Carol smiled warmly. It was sincere, and Daryl felt it in his chest.

"Don't worry," she said. He felt, too, that she meant it. She might be falling apart herself, but for him she could be strong. "We'll figure it out together."

"Damn sure will," Daryl offered, pushing her toward the bedroom.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl heard the rig a long time before he saw it. It creaked and groaned. It was clearly carrying a much heavier load than would be caused by one person or even a small load of materials. Dog barked, once, into the fog that had settled over the land around them and Daryl called out a warning sound that silenced the dog.

He wasn't worried about Walkers. Whoever was driving the rig would be prepared to handle them unless there were just far too many. Nobody set out in a creaking rig without the absolute confidence that they could handle a few Walkers. The fences around the house, too, would hold pretty well unless the Walkers were out of control. Daryl felt pretty confident that he could pick off the Walkers before they got to be too much.

He hadn't seen a herd that would really cause them all a great deal of trouble in a while.

He didn't want Dog barking because he didn't want to run the risk that the animal—or the person driving the rig—or anything else, might wake up Carol.

Dog chuffed a couple of times, but he obeyed Daryl's command to stay quiet even as the rig came into view and rolled to a stop just in front of the gates.

Ezekiel spoke to the horses, set the reins for his return to the rig, and locked the wheels from his seat. Then he dropped down off the rig. Daryl offered him the same warning of quiet when he started to speak and he obeyed much the same way that Dog had—he let out something of a chuffing sound, but he didn't speak. He left the heavily loaded rig—though Daryl couldn't see what was loaded there—and brought only a large jug. He let himself into the gate, instead, and petted Dog generously before he made his way to the porch. Daryl didn't rise up out of his seat for a moment. He was comfortable. Ezekiel put the jug down on the bottom step without comment. Daryl let things lie as they were.

"Coffee on the fire over there," Daryl said quietly. "Whole stack of mugs in the windowsill. They all clean."

Ezekiel nodded as thanks for his hospitality and walked toward the little fire to help himself with coffee that sat on the cooking grate perched just off the fire to keep the coffee warm without allowing it to boil out.

Daryl couldn't see him at all when he disappeared off to the side for a moment, but he already knew that the Good King was taking himself over to view what Daryl had hung up to drain for breakfast.

"A fresh kill," Ezekiel said, coming around to mount the porch steps. By way of invitation, Daryl pushed at the empty chair. Ezekiel accepted the seat as it was offered. Daryl offered him a bag of the tightly rolled cigarettes he'd been rolling from paper and loose tobacco to entertain himself during the past little while. It was a tedious job, but he gathered it whenever they came across it because he liked the repetition and the calming effect of creating the perfectly rolled cigarettes. Ezekiel refused one and Daryl lit a fresh one for himself. He tasted his coffee. It was still hot because he'd accidentally gotten the coffee a touch too hot before he'd moved it from the flames.

"That bastard was in our shed when I come out to get the fire goin'," Daryl offered. "Be a good breakfast, though. Good protein for the baby."

"I brought milk," Ezekiel said, not commenting on the raccoon that would be made into a meal with, more than likely, a great deal left over for later meals. "For the Queen."

"Carol," Daryl said. "For cryin' out loud. There ain't nobody out here but me, you, an' Dog. And he ain't shit for conversation. Just—drop the damn Good King Wenceslas bullshit."

Ezekiel laughed to himself and reclined as much as he could in his seat. He sipped his hot coffee and held it like he was warming his hands on the mug. It was chilly. It was clear, this morning, that fall had settled in around them and winter was sending her warnings of impending arrival.

"Good coffee," Ezekiel said. Daryl hummed. "Is there something wrong with the stove?"

"I prefer to cook out here," Daryl said. "Get a little claustrophobic if I stay in the house too much. Besides—didn't want the smell to wake her up."

"She isn't sleeping well?" Ezekiel asked.

"Not good as I'd want her to," Daryl offered. He relaxed into his seat, as well. He really didn't mind Ezekiel's company when the man wasn't pretending to be something straight out of a fairy tale. He had a decent enough head on his shoulders, he clearly cared about people and family, and he would do damn near anything that was asked of him. He also loved Carol and, honestly, for as much as that could bristle Daryl if he thought about it one way, he appreciated it when he thought about it another.

"Nightmares?" Ezekiel asked. Daryl hummed.

"At least I understand 'em now," Daryl mused.

"Sophia," Ezekiel said. Daryl didn't know if it was a question or a statement. It was entirely likely that Carol had only told Ezekiel part of her story. It was possible that she hadn't told anyone the details of everything that haunted her when she closed her eyes. She hadn't told Daryl everything she dreamed, after all, until he'd finally forced it out of her when she'd woken him by screaming out the night before. Daryl wouldn't tell the man next to him any of Carol's secrets. If she wanted to tell them, she could. She was welcome to share them when and where she thought it necessary or useful, but he would hold them for her.

"Damn near her whole fuckin' life has been a nightmare," Daryl mused, deciding that neither confirmed nor denied Ezekiel's suspicions, and it gave away no precious details of the dancing demons in Carol's mind. "Got a handle on it now, though. Or I'm gettin' one. Know what I'm dealin' with."

"If I can help…" Ezekiel offered, letting it trail off.

"You helped already," Daryl said. "Gettin' Henry to make sure she knows he ain't pissed at her. Ain't goin' nowhere."

"He isn't angry at all," Ezekiel said. "You know how young people are. The anger passes as soon as it comes. He would have come with me this morning, but he's loading more supplies to bring later."

"Supplies?" Daryl asked.

"For your fences and structures," Ezekiel offered.

"Already?" Daryl asked.

"It would be better to have them done as soon as possible. You'll want to set the posts and the ground will freeze soon," Ezekiel explained. "You don't have to worry, though. Henry is bringing a team from the Kingdom. He's told me your plans. They're good plans. They're reasonable and simple. Henry and the team that he's organized will make short work of putting them in place."

"I weren't gonna ask you for no team," Daryl offered.

"You didn't," Ezekiel said. "Henry did. And if you'll excuse my directness, you have requests for me to act the way that you prefer, and I have requests for you. I think Henry wants to do this as something for his mother. I would ask that you allow it and without protest. He wants to show her that—he can help provide for her and for his sister. He wants to show her that he's not angry and, more than that, that he's ready to be considered a man."

Daryl hummed.

"It ain't necessary, but I'ma accept it 'cause it matters to him," Daryl said. "And because you asked me to. I won't never stand in the way of him doin' something he thinks is important to do for his Mama an' the baby. Besides—I'd like to…take her away for a few days anyway. I'd like to borrow a rig."

"You can borrow a rig any time," Ezekiel offered.

"Thanks," Daryl offered. "Need a big one. Might be bringin' back a load. Couple drafts if we got 'em to spare so they don't tire too quick on the way back."

"Is this another trip to Hilltop?" Ezekiel asked. "To bring back things for Michael?"

"He said he'll handle his own affairs," Daryl said. "He oughta be at the Kingdom within the week if what he told me 'fore we left was right. If not, you might see about sendin' someone to check."

"If you're not taking her to the Hilltop," Ezekiel said, "do I have the right to ask where you're taking her?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Hell if I know what you got the right to do an' not do," Daryl mused. "I never been married to a woman who was married before…"

"Married?" Ezekiel asked, latching immediately onto the word. Daryl's stomach twisted. He'd wanted desperately to try the word out. He'd wanted to hear it coming out of his mouth. He'd wanted to taste it on his tongue and to see how it might sound. He'd wanted to see someone else respond to his new truth. Being married to Carol seemed impossible. It seemed like a dream, and it still made him a little nervous.

"Last night," Daryl said. Ezekiel's face quickly revealed something that Daryl couldn't quite name. Was it sorrow? Disappointment? He wiped it away quickly and replaced it with a smile.

"And Henry and I weren't invited?" Ezekiel asked. Daryl couldn't tell if his words were sincere.

"It ain't like that," Daryl said. "Just—an agreement between Carol an' I. Ain't nothin' to be invited to."

"It's been a long time coming," Ezekiel mused. "And just like that, the Queen steps down."

"She's always gonna be there for the Kingdom," Daryl said. "That weren't never gonna change. And…" He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew what he felt was right to say, but it still felt strange to accept it as truth and to put it out there. Still, he said it because it needed to be said. "However, it is that it works, she's always gonna be there for you. I guess you know that, though, or you wouldn't be havin' coffee on our porch."

Ezekiel laughed to himself.

"I am honored to be welcome in your Kingdom," Ezekiel offered.

"Shut up," Daryl offered, laughing to himself. He lit himself a new cigarette, the other long having burned out. "I'd rather be the Wildman you call me than a King any day."

"Then a Wildman you shall be," Ezekiel said. Daryl assumed, now, that the slipping in and out of his role as king was difficult to control. He spent a great deal of time playing the part. Maybe he didn't always do it to be annoying in private company. Maybe he simply did it because his mind had learned it as a part of himself. Daryl decided he could tolerate it. It was annoying, but it wasn't being done to annoy him—and there was a big difference between those two things. "Still, Carol remains, to me, always a queen. And I do return to my inquiry about—where you and the Queen are going. A honeymoon, perhaps?"

"Somethin' like that," Daryl offered. "I ain't told her yet, but I wanna take her to Alexandria."

"That's a fair ride," Ezekiel said.

"That's where Michonne is," Daryl said.

"Carol has a desire to see Michonne?" Ezekiel asked.

"She needs to see Michonne," Daryl said. "Whether or not she necessarily desires it. She needs to see Judith and RJ. She needs to just—be there for a little while. They got a lotta nice things there, too. While we're there, Michonne'll help her get some stuff for the baby gathered together. Crib an' stuff."

"We have everything Carol will need for the baby at the Kingdom," Ezekiel said. "I have already put together a nursery there for the possibility that she may need to stay there at some point. We have excess furniture. Hilltop is closer if she'd like to choose items from there, even."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"The furniture is extra," Daryl said. "It's Michonne that I want her to have the most. A mother, you know? I think she needs someone to talk to that—ain't me an' ain't you. No offense."

"Nabila is always available for Carol," Ezekiel offered.

"You don't fuckin' get it," Daryl growled. He was a little annoyed that he had to explain himself to this man. Carol would require much less explanation when she woke. She had mentioned Michonne, herself, the night before. She would understand what it was that he was trying to do and what he wanted for her. He didn't want to explain himself to Ezekiel. "Michonne's a Ma like Carol."

"Nabila's a mother," Ezekiel offered.

"That ain't never lost nothin'!" Daryl barked, louder than he meant to. He checked himself with the internal sound of warning that he might have given anyone making that much noise. Dog came trotting over from his patrol of the fences to see if things were OK and Daryl dropped a hand. The animal came up the porch steps and accepted affection from Daryl as assurance that nothing was wrong. Daryl lowered his voice. "It's different," he said. "And I don't owe you no damn explanation for what I do. You ain't her husband no more."

Daryl wasn't sure if Ezekiel looked shocked or amused.

"I'm sorry," Daryl offered.

"Don't be. You're right," Ezekiel said. "I'm not. I'm not certain that—I ever was. I only mean that Alexandria is a fair distance to travel."

"That's why I wanna go now," Daryl said. "Early. Before it gets real cold. Before there's snow. We'll camp tonight, maybe, somewhere an' we'll be there tomorrow. That's just to keep from travellin' in the dark. We'll be back in a week—two if Carol wants—before it gets too cold. I wouldn't go if I didn't think it'd make a world of difference in Carol. She needs to see Michonne, though…and…"

"And?" Ezekiel pressed when Daryl stopped talking.

"When we went to Hilltop, she had to spend the whole damn time tellin' the story of how it was that she weren't married to you no more. Michonne ain't gonna make her tell the story but once before she just makes it damn near a decree that it ain't nobody's business an' they can ask her in private if they give a shit. We've known Michonne a long time. I don't mean it to piss on you or nothin', but…Carol can just be Carol there, she don't have to be the Queen."

Ezekiel smiled at Daryl. Slowly the smile spread into a grin.

"The fuck are you lookin' at me like that for?" Daryl growled. He almost laughed in spite of himself over how damn amused and jolly Ezekiel looked. Ezekiel rocked a little in his chair before he sat back and drained a long swallow from his coffee cup—the liquid had to be nearly as chilled as Daryl's was, but they both continued to nurse it along.

"In Alexandria," Ezekiel mused, "Carol doesn't have to be the Queen. She can simply be the Wildman's Lady."

Daryl snorted, amused by the sentiment.

"Woman," Daryl said. "She don't gotta be the Queen. For once, she can just be the Wildman's Woman."


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Here's another chapter. I hope that you enjoy!**

**It should be said that I know nothing about where things are located and I'm just making that stuff up, so suspension of disbelief is always appreciated! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol hadn't asked Daryl why they were making the trip to Alexandria. She hadn't protested in any way except to say that she thought they should go by the Kingdom to tell Henry where they were going and when they expected to return so that he wouldn't be concerned or read things incorrectly. Her worries were quickly soothed, though, when Ezekiel and Henry brought them the rig and team that they'd be using for the trip, along with more supplies they were planning to use to ready their little home for long-term residence and self-sustainability.

Daryl had given her all the time she'd needed to pack what she wanted to take, prepare the wagon, and say her goodbyes to Henry and Ezekiel both. He'd checked in with Henry to make sure the young man—because much of the reason he was doing this was to prove that he was every bit as much of a man as anyone else—understood what they were hoping for. They discussed fences, storage, and livestock shelters.

And when Carol was ready, they loaded the wagon and set off for Alexandria.

Alexandria was a day's ride when they moved quickly and planned the trip to last no more than a day. This included leaving early and figuring in meals that could be eaten on the road to avoid stops. They had prepared for none of that. When it was nearing dusk, Daryl had chosen a farmhouse along the road that looked promising because it had a barn and fences that were still standing where he could easily leave the team for the night. Carol had cleared the barn while Daryl had cleared the house. At the last moment, they'd decided to keep their team company, and they'd made a bed in the hayloft of the barn using items from the house. They'd packed anything else that they'd really liked into the wagon. Daryl had caught them a rabbit, and Carol had prepared it with some of their travelling food to make a dinner that was as good as any that Daryl could really recall having eaten before.

They harnessed the team as the sun came up, Carol prepared a breakfast from a couple of squirrels caught in quick and simple snares that Daryl had set the night before, and they started off to finish their journey to Alexandria.

Daryl knew that Carol was excited about the trip, but he could also tell that she was nervous. She was quiet and, by now, Daryl knew that Carol had different types of "quiet". Still, he didn't push her to talk. He understood what made her nervous. They were going to see Michonne—their oldest friend in this world, and the one who had been with them through so many things—and they would be telling her about their relationship and their baby, along with the truth about Carol's marriage to Ezekiel, all at once. It was enough to stir up a few nerves.

Daryl, oddly enough, felt entirely calm about it. Maybe it was because he knew Michonne wouldn't show disapproval even if she felt it. Maybe it was simply because he knew that Carol needed him, at that moment, to just be the quiet and calm one of the two of them.

Their arrival had clearly been seen by one of the people that were keeping watch. The gates opened for them like they were automatic as they arrived. Daryl drove the team directly inside the walls of Alexandria and didn't stop it until he knew they were fully clear the gates. He set the reins and locked the wheels, certain that the well-trained team would wait until they were unharnessed or given further commands.

The gates were closed behind them by people that Daryl didn't know well enough to care about—these days he tried to care very little about people that weren't truly important to him—and he looked around for any familiar face in the small crowd that passed to have a look at the new arrivals to Alexandria.

Carol sat on her seat, too, and looked around.

Daryl saw her smile start, though, before he ever actually picked out Michonne's figure walking toward them.

Michonne looked every bit as much like royalty in Alexandria as Ezekiel pretended to be in the Kingdom. She was scowling, at first, because she didn't immediately recognize them. She walked toward them, straight backed with the hilt of her katana peeking over her shoulder. Clearly, she'd been clearing Walkers or doing some other such activity—or, since she looked pretty clean, maybe she'd been simply preparing to go out for something.

As soon as she saw them, though, the angry scowl that made the woman seem unapproachable melted into a warm smile and her steps quickened like she might run to toward the wagon. Daryl got down first, and walked around to meet her as she approached. He stuck a hand out in greeting, already knowing how she would react. She looked at his hand, frowned at him before letting the frown melt back into the smile and then she wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I didn't know you were coming," she declared.

"We were hoping to surprise you," Daryl said. "That OK?"

"You're always welcome in Alexandria," Michonne declared. "You know I've been trying to get you to move back here."

She pulled away from Daryl and looked at Carol. Carol was half leaning in her seat and she smiled warmly at Michonne.

"Carol!" Michonne declared. "Where's Ezekiel?"

Daryl reached his hands up in Carol's direction. The rig was a high one and he'd already told her that, though he trusted all of her abilities, he preferred her to let him at least have his hands near her for security as she climbed up and down the side. Carol quickly got up, turned, and made her way down the side. She didn't need Daryl as she stepped securely onto the ground, but he preferred to at least know that he'd offered her some protection against falling.

Michonne hugged Carol and, pulling back from the hug, her eyes immediately drifted down to the small change in Carol's body that barely presented itself as proof of their eventual arrival.

Michonne smiled at Carol's belly before bringing her eyes up to meet Carol's and smile at her.

"Is this…?" She said, clearly afraid that she might say something to insult Carol.

Carol's smile and the red that flushed through her cheeks, though, made it clear that she wasn't insulted. She pressed her hand over her belly before Michonne followed suit with her own hand.

"It is!" Carol said with more enthusiasm than Daryl had heard her use in a while. His heart fluttered a little and he was already patting himself on the back for making the decision to take this trip. They had only just arrived and already he could clearly see that it was doing Carol some good.

"Oh—Carol!" Michonne said. Her enthusiasm was clearly not faked. "I'm so—happy for you! Where's Ezekiel? He must be over the moon!"

Carol stepped back from Michonne like she'd been burned and Michonne's face immediately registered her concern. Daryl cleared his throat.

"That's quite a story," Daryl offered. "And—it ain't Ezekiel's."

Michonne looked confused and concerned. Perhaps she had reason to look that way. After all, what reason would she have had to suspect that Carol's marriage to Ezekiel had been nothing more than a marriage of convenience that would bring comfort to them both while making the Kingdom feel like there were more reasons to keep going in this world?

"Are you OK?" Michonne asked, catching Carol's arms. Daryl was glad that her concern was immediately heaped on Carol. Carol replaced her smile, but it wasn't quite as beaming as before.

"I'm fine," Carol assured her. "Wonderful. And—Ezekiel's fine, too."

"We were hopin' to stay a couple days," Daryl said. "Maybe even—like a week or two. If—if that's alright with you?"

"We've got plenty of room," Michonne said. "You'll stay with us."

"We can stay in a room anywhere," Daryl offered. "We don't want to be any trouble."

"You could never be trouble," Michonne said. "You'll stay with us. Judith and RJ will love it."

Daryl nodded.

"Let's get our things and we'll—fill you in on everything," he offered.

Michonne nodded.

"I'll help," she said. "We'll take the long way to the house. If you don't mind…I think I'd like to hear the story before Judith and RJ realize we've got company."

Daryl and Carol both nodded. It was only fair that Michonne know the story and have a few minutes to process it before she was thinking about how she wanted to present it to her small children. Daryl shouldered the majority of their bags. He offered Carol a light bag to satisfy the desire to carry something that her outstretched hand communicated, and h offered Michonne the one slightly heavy bag that he couldn't shoulder along with everything else.

Michonne gave the command to have their team cared for and the rig stored for the time being. Dog had run on ahead of them—making himself familiar with every hand willing to touch him and every surface waiting to be pissed on—and Michonne started the walk that would take them on a twisting route through Alexandria and buy them the time to tell their story.

When they were pretty much alone, Carol started it.

"Michonne—Ezekiel and I were never really married. Not in a…not…"

"Not in a biblical way," Daryl offered, laughing to himself.

Michonne walked almost sideways. She was half looking where she was going and half looking at them. She furrowed her brow at Carol.

"So, you were just…"

"Friends," Carol supplied. "Good friends. I mean—we love each other, but…" She sighed and Daryl let her have her moment. "We love each other, but I just couldn't love Ezekiel. Not that way." She took an interest in the ground she was treading like she feared she might trip over some obstacle. "I was already in love."

Without prompting and without hesitation, Michonne looked at Daryl. He felt his face grow warm. Michonne laughed to herself.

"I'd be lying if I said I was really surprised," Michonne mused. "But—how long? You were gone so much…"

"I'd go and visit him," Carol offered. She smiled sideways at Daryl and her cheeks ran pink again. "My Wildman in the woods," she mused. She shrugged her shoulders. "On one of those visits, I guess I took something back to the Kingdom with me. Though it took me a little while to know."

"It's yours?" Michonne asked. Daryl nodded. She smiled and stammered a second before she could fully form her words. "Congratulations…to the…to both of you."

Each of them nodded as a way of acknowledging her congratulations. They weren't entirely accustomed to getting congratulations. A lot of people liked to hear the story, but forgot the congratulations afterwards.

"There ain't too much more to tell," Daryl offered. "We're livin' in Carol's little house outside the Kingdom now. Henry's there fixin' it up as we speak. We're gonna build somethin' small to settle, but we're…we're still sorta part of the Kingdom. We're married. Newly married, I guess. A couple nights ago."

"We just decided to use the word," Carol said. "But not much has changed."

Michonne looked happy and then suddenly concerned.

"Siddiq can have a look at you," Michonne said.

"That's not necessary," Carol said.

"We'd more than appreciate it," Daryl said, doing his best to counteract Carol's words. When she eyed him grumpily, he shook his head at her gently. "A second, third, or four-hundredth opinion is appreciated. There's a lotta time to talk ahead of us, but a little reassurance is one of the reasons we come here."

"We've already seen Michael at the Hilltop," Carol said. "He's moving to the Kingdom for the rest of the pregnancy. He says—I'm about twenty weeks. It's a girl."

"He says she's healthy," Daryl said.

"He says the baby's small," Carol corrected. "Underweight."

"Because you ain't been eatin' enough," Daryl said.

"Or because she's not growing properly," Carol offered.

"Carol's blood pressure's up an' her heartbeat's not regular," Daryl said. "Mostly it's anxiety an' if we could just get her calm and consistently happy…"

"We don't know that it's not just a problem with the whole…I'm not exactly the age that one would choose to have a baby," Carol said.

Michonne looked back and forth between them like someone trying to keep up with the swinging pendulum of a grandfather clock that had gotten wildly out of control.

"We'll take your things with us. We'll go see Siddiq first," Michonne said, the moment she saw the opportunity to speak at all. "I remember when I was pregnant with RJ. A little reassurance can go a long way."

"That's all I'm saying," Daryl offered.

Michonne's face, though, made it clear that she wasn't to be argued with. She wasn't asking them—and really it was clear that she was looking most sternly at Carol. She was telling them how she expected things to be handled in her "home".

"And after we see Siddiq, then we'll get you settled at the house so we can really talk about everything you've got to look forward to! I can't wait to hear the rest of this story."

"That's really all there is," Carol offered. Daryl noticed that she didn't try to argue with Michonne at all as the woman started leading her toward the house where Siddiq had made his office.

"Trust me," Michonne said. "That's not all there is. I've still got plenty of questions."

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**AN: I'll give the same disclaimer as always; I sort of make characters who I want them to be. I can't keep up with the show and their often inconsistent character profiles. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.**

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Daryl had no idea what kind of medical equipment Siddiq actually had. As far as he knew, he had nothing beyond the bandages and rudimentary supplies that he could see from looking around the main room of his clean little clinic.

Still, Michonne had spoken with the doctor for several long and private minutes before he'd brought Carol into the space. Daryl had offered to leave, and Michonne had too, but Carol had said she wanted them both present. She wasn't shy, and she made that clear, but she seemed to be drawing some kind of strength from the both of them.

Siddiq checked Carol as carefully and as thoroughly as Daryl imagined anyone had ever been examined before. He didn't have an ultrasound machine to produce videos or pictures like Michael had, but he prodded and rearranged Carol several times as he examined her and listened to her with her several kinds of stethoscopes. Daryl had no idea what his laboratory might look like—housed out of sight of the main examination room—but Siddiq requested a urine sample that Carol brought to him in a cup from the bathroom and he drew several vials of blood from her while Daryl held her hand and worked her knuckles under his fingers.

Daryl knew Michonne well enough to know that she would simply know what Carol needed. That's why he'd brought Carol there. That's why he was trusting that Michonne could help him find peace for Carol. She was a mother and, beyond that, she was a mother who had tearfully admitted to them once that she'd lost a child long before they knew her. She had lost Carl, as well, who she'd come to love as her own. She knew, like Carol, what it felt like to have this world snatch their children away and, after all that, she'd brought RJ into the world.

She would understand Carol like nobody else—not even Daryl—could possibly understand her. And she could teach Daryl what he needed to know to understand her like he wanted.

Michonne sat, relaxed, in one of the chairs on the porch and waited in silence with Daryl and Carol. She'd already radioed to check on her children and, content that all was well, she was going to sit with them until Siddiq called them back to discuss all of his findings at once.

Carol sat, eyes closed like she might actually be napping a little, and leaned against Daryl while she still loosely held the cotton in the crook of her arm that was meant to stop the flow of blood after Siddiq's blood test.

Daryl wondered just how exhausted she was. He wondered, too, if this trip might see her resting a lot more. He hoped for it, really. He hoped she was able to get what she needed in order to really rest well. He didn't want to wake her, or disturb her if she was only resting her eyes, and he was almost certain that was why Michonne was guarding a comfortable silence.

Michonne only smiled at him, from time to time, when she noticed him looking at her. She was looking at him rather intently for most of the time—or maybe she was looking at Carol. Perhaps, even, she was taking in the view of the two of them together, with Carol leaned on his shoulder, as husband and wife.

Daryl didn't know if Siddiq had a laboratory at all. He didn't know what kind of equipment the man may have or even what kind of professional training he had. Daryl didn't know if Michonne had simply made suggestions, and he was only making them wait to give the illusion of being able to do more than he actually could while he poured out urine and blood samples.

Anything, honestly, could be possible.

But the simple fact that his examination had seemed absolutely thorough—even without a single verdict rendered so far—seemed to make Carol already feel better than she had.

When her hand dropped into her lap and she let go of the cotton ball—evidence that she'd succumbed to a nap—Daryl only glanced long enough to make sure that she wasn't bleeding. Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he held as still as he could to allow her to rest.

He saw the slight hint of a smile on Michonne's lips as she watched them, unashamed.

Daryl felt his cheeks burn warm, but he returned the slightest reflection of the smile.

"Might have to carry her to your place," he offered, barely putting enough sound behind the words for them to drift the short distance necessary for Michonne to hear them.

"The guest bedroom is nice," Michonne said. "Clean sheets."

"She'd hate to sleep all day," Daryl said. "Can't stand the idea she mighta missed something."

Michonne hummed and smiled at Daryl.

"Pregnancy naps are the best, though," she said. "They're something else entirely."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"It's a girl," he said. "Just like…"

"Shh…" Michonne said quietly. "Let her sleep. At least until Siddiq finishes up."

"But I think it's—it's part of the worry," Daryl said.

Michonne frowned at him and allowed her eyebrows to practically knit together in disapproval. She'd already told him that he was to be quiet, and she considered that the same as any order she might give Judith or RJ. In addition, Daryl felt as thoroughly scolded as he might if he were one of the children. He closed his mouth and let his own worries ride for the minute. Instead of giving voice to his concerns, he simply waited in the quiet of the afternoon for Siddiq to emerge from the clinic.

Daryl sat up and shook Carol awake when the doctor stepped out of the door. She looked genuinely confused and Daryl realized that her nap had involved deeper sleep than he'd even realized. It clearly took her a moment to even remember where she was and how they'd ended up there. Siddiq saw it on her face, too, because he waited to speak until Carol looked a little more present.

"Do you want me to—do you want me to go back inside?" Carol asked. Daryl could hear the sound of sleep still surrounding her words.

"There's no need," Siddiq said. "Unless you're more comfortable inside…I only want to talk…"

"I'm fine," Carol said quickly.

Siddiq went to lean against the porch railing where he could comfortably face all of them with a slight turn of his head. Daryl didn't imagine they needed to go back inside because he couldn't imagine anything about Carol that the doctor hadn't already examined.

"Well?" Carol asked, a little bite coming out in her voice that Daryl assumed was unintended and probably a result of being nervous. He dropped his arm around her shoulder as a way to reassure her against whatever might be said.

"What do you want to know?" Siddiq asked. He held his hands out like he was offering her an invisible bounty. "All of your levels look good. Your tests came back positive. The best results I could hope for."

"Is that because you were hoping for something pretty low and disappointing?" Carol asked with a laugh.

"You don't have any signs of gestational diabetes," Siddiq said. "All your levels are textbook perfect."

Carol shifted against him and Daryl's heart thundered with the news. He moved a hand to find hers and wrapped her hand tightly in his.

"She's small…" Carol breathed out.

"She may be," Siddiq ceded, nodding his head. "But—babies come in different sizes and they always have. Just like their mothers. Maybe she won't be a thirteen pound baby, but that doesn't mean she's not healthy. My recommendation would be to keep doing what you said you've been doing. Monitor your food intake. Make sure you're eating when you feel hungry and you're working in a few snacks even when you don't really feel hungry. She's growing. That's all that really matters."

"What about my blood pressure?" Carol asked.

"It's been high," Daryl offered. "Michael said it's dangerous."

"It can be dangerous," Siddiq said, nodding his head. "It can cause complications and—well, it's something we'd like to get control of if at all possible. Given the resources that we have, right now that means that we're looking at relaxation techniques for Carol. We might look into massage therapy, acupuncture…anything that's going to help her relax."

"I think I'd rather try the massage therapy," Carol offered.

Siddiq laughed and Daryl couldn't help but laugh as well.

"We could do that," Daryl offered.

"It can help," Siddiq said.

"So, my blood pressure is high," Carol said.

"Were you napping a little?" Siddiq asked. Carol squirmed slightly, perhaps embarrassed that she'd fallen asleep on the porch. Siddiq laughed to himself. "It's fine if you were. Good, even. Getting enough rest is very important and, sometimes, that means frequent naps for expectant mothers."

"A little," Carol said.

"Then I can bring the cuff out here and get a very relaxed reading," Siddiq said.

Carol shifted and her hand tightened around Daryl's. She was anything but relaxed in that moment and he knew it. Siddiq, it seemed, knew it too. Daryl saw the man's facial muscles flex slightly with recognition in the manner of someone who was accustomed to reading others' reactions.

"When I brought the blood pressure cuff out in the office," Siddiq said, "I noticed that you immediately tensed. You tensed dramatically. Just now, you've tensed dramatically every time I've mentioned it or you've mentioned it." Carol let out a breath like she was trying to calm herself now that her attention had been brought to her reaction.

"I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"Don't apologize," Siddiq said. "Have you always had that reaction to having your blood pressure taken?"

Carol didn't respond. Daryl chewed on it for a moment, not knowing if it was really his place to answer any question about Carol or her medical history, but then he decided it was his right as her husband—no matter how new that particular role might be to him.

"She ain't always had the best relationship with medical care," Daryl said. "I imagine—that came from before any of this. But—the blood pressure thing didn't really start until we went to see Michael. Right away he—made it sound like if her blood pressure weren't right…you know…"

"What?" Siddiq pressed.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't really know, but the baby would—it was gonna die or…somethin'…somethin' horrible."

Siddiq stared at Daryl a moment and then he looked at Carol. Daryl couldn't stand the idea of looking at her, so he kept his eyes straight ahead. There would be pain on her features. He was sure of it. And right now, for just a moment, he couldn't stand to see pain there. The only thing he wanted—and what he wanted more than anything in the world—was to see happiness on her features. Joy. Peace. He didn't want to see the pain.

So, he stared at Siddiq's furrowed brow. After a moment, Siddiq replaced the expression with a comforting smile. Daryl could tell he had practice producing the expression. He stepped forward and took Carol's hand in his—the one that Daryl wasn't holding. He patted it.

"Even if your blood pressure is high, that doesn't mean your baby is going to die," Siddiq offered.

"But it can mean that," Carol said quietly.

"Anything can happen," Siddiq ceded, "but…that doesn't mean it's going to happen or even likely to happen."

"The roof might cave in on this porch and kill all of us," Michonne offered from her spot. "But it's not likely to happen."

"I can't help but notice that you've developed a very clear visceral reaction to having your blood pressure taken," Siddiq said. "That will actually raise your blood pressure significantly. Maybe, in time, that will pass. But until then, I have to say that—in my professional opinion? The benefit of taking your blood pressure doesn't outweigh the suffering it causes. You're as healthy as anybody we've got here, if that's any consolation. The fetal heartbeat is strong and steady. Your baby measures small, but it could be that she's a small baby. And she can grow. She's got time. I'd say you've got about four more months to go before she comes. She's going to grow. I believe that worrying about your blood pressure is what's raising your blood pressure. My prescription is not to worry about it anymore."

Daryl dared to glance at Carol. She looked like she might cry, but she was doing her best to hold it back. The only thing that was giving her away was the dampness puddling in her eyes.

"You're—sure?" She breathed out.

Siddiq smiled.

"I ran every test in my power," he said. "You're healthy. She's healthy. See me again before you leave, if you want, or if you have any other concerns, but…"

Carol nodded her head and wiped away the drop that rolled down her cheek with the hand he'd released.

"Any other questions?" Siddiq asked, looking at Daryl.

"Just one," Daryl said. "You got any interest in movin' to the Kingdom for about…oh…I'd say four or five months?"

"We couldn't possibly let him go," Michonne interjected. "But I'm sure he'd love to come and visit. Maybe he'd like to keep me company. I can't imagine that I won't be making the trip a few times…"

"I would be happy to join Michonne," Siddiq offered. "But for now—there's nothing else that I know to say except get ready. She'll be here before you know it."

Whether or not she did it consciously, the smile that crossed across Carol's lips suddenly outweighed the droplets still hanging heavy in her eyelashes. Daryl turned his hand to squeeze the fingers that were still resting lightly in his.

"Come on," he said. "For all they gonna care, let's go tell Judith an' RJ they got company…and they gonna have a cousin." He stood up, tugging Carol's hand, to get them moving. As soon as Carol was on her feet, Daryl offered Siddiq a hand. The man took it. "Thanks, man," Daryl said, holding eye contact with the doctor. "I mean that."


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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RJ was at the age where he accepted any and every piece of information that didn't really concern him without a problem. His interests only really lie in getting Daryl to play with him. If that meant he needed to spend a few seconds acknowledging the presence of a baby he couldn't fully understand in the belly of a woman that he didn't know that well, he could pat her belly and offer hugs all around before running off for the toys that Daryl told him to collect for a play date that would occur at an unspecified "later time."

Judith had a few more questions about the whole thing. Michonne had tried to be as delicate as she could, but she fully believed in answering Judith's questions. She didn't believe in sheltering her daughter, and she knew that Carol agreed. Sheltering children, in this world, was dangerous.

Still, despite her curiosity, Judith wasn't a judgmental girl and she wasn't slow to understand anything. She accepted, quickly and without much struggle, Michonne's explanation that Carol and the King had loved one another—but not in the way that Mommies and Daddies usually loved one another. They had loved each other as very good friends. The different love—a special love—which Michonne tried to explain delicately to Judith, had existed between Daryl and Carol alone. And now, it seemed, the two of them had chosen to live together and to become parents to a baby girl that Carol was growing to welcome into the world.

Judith had required the normal reassurance that the King was well—and maybe would even visit Alexandria one day, but they'd surely see him when they went to visit the Kingdom soon—and that Henry was pleased to have an ever-growing family.

More family, Judith understood, was a wonderful thing.

And the few babies born into Alexandria already served to give her some understanding of where babies came from and, since Michonne believed in softening the world a little for her daughter, but not in hiding any truth from her, how they came to be.

"I don't feel anything," Judith declared, searching Carol's belly with her fingers.

Carol was a good sport about the children's responses. She'd accepted RJ's hug, his hard series of pats on her belly, and the fact that he had little else to say in regard to a baby that he could neither see nor play with. She was accepting, now, Judith's desire to explore every inch of her belly and to satisfy herself that she knew all she wished to know.

"Judith," Michonne said softly, "do you want to ask…" she hesitated a moment, hoping she chose correctly how to promote this relationship, "your aunt Carol…" Carol smiled at Michonne's choice of words. She didn't protest. "Do you want to ask her…if you're being a little too rough or…demanding?"

Carol smiled and shook her head at Michonne.

"She's fine," Carol assured her. She smiled at Judith and patted the little girl's back where she sat beside her on the couch. "You're fine."

Michonne let her eyes drift to Daryl.

The three of them had a great deal of history. They had more history than Michonne would ever care to recount to any of the people that she still considered, by comparison, veritable strangers in her life. Daryl and Carol both knew who she was back before she'd fully come back into herself. They knew who she had been when Andrea had only started to bring her back to life—at least that was how it felt to have the woman breathing something like new life into her. Andrea had taught her how to care about people again.

Daryl and Carol knew, too, what it had been like for Michonne to lose Andrea. Michonne still thanked them both for their participation in Andrea's burial when they'd brought her back, wrapped in a tarp, from Woodbury. Carol had understood Michonne's need to clean her—despite the horror of seeing her as she was—and to care for her. She had helped without question and without judgment. Daryl had understood Michonne's aching need to see her respected, and he had carried her as gently as if she were alive to lower her into the grave that he'd dug.

They had seen her through the mourning, as family, and they had been happy for her when she'd found love with Rick. They had been there for her since Rick's passing, but in very different ways and only in pockets of time here and there. Life had been difficult and overwhelming and all-consuming for all three of them.

But Michonne still felt that they would always be there for her—they would be her family—if and when she needed them. It was her job, she realized, to seek them as much as it was theirs to seek her.

Michonne knew the pasts of both of them, too. She knew, at least, what they chose to share with her. She knew some of what they'd both suffered, and she knew of Carol's heartbreaking losses. Every child that had come into her life had been removed, in some way, except for Henry. Even Michonne had taken over affection from Judith that might have once been owed to Carol for the care she gave the girl before Judith could fully understand everything.

Michonne was thankful to both of these people—her family members—for everything, and she was happy for them for what they seemed to have found. She was happy for them for the future that she hoped they had coming to them both.

She'd always seen something between them. Everyone had. Even Rick had mentioned it more than once, but nobody had ever known what to do to give them a nudge that might help them close the gap that had seemed to remain between them. Now, it seemed that they'd found a way to close their own gap.

Michonne had told them at least a half a dozen times that she was happy for them—in every sense of the word—since she'd greeted them at the gates, but she still didn't feel like the words expressed all that she felt.

Carol looked exhausted—barely able to stay awake—but she looked happier than she had since she'd arrived. Michonne suspected the baby growing in her body was stealing some of her energy, but most of her exhaustion was probably owing to worry that was now dissipating a bit. Daryl, for his part, had barely been able to take his eyes off Carol. Even while the children had greeted him and crawled over him—having seen him more often in his trips to Alexandria and the surrounding areas than they had seen Carol once she'd moved to the Kingdom and, therefore, being slightly more excited to see him—he'd still kept his eyes on Carol. He'd still clearly been worried about her every move and, perhaps, her every emotion.

Michonne decided that she would entertain them both a while longer. She would allow Judith to enjoy her aunt a bit more—and to dig for information about the baby, because Judith loved babies—and then she would recommend a nap that she was almost certain that Carol would take. The woman looked barely able to refuse such a thing. Then, when things were quiet and she'd sent Judith to entertain her brother, Michonne would have the chance to talk to Daryl alone.

She'd have the chance to help him with the concern he was hardly able to hide.

And, later, she would have her opportunity to speak with Carol—which, she was sure, would go a long way in comforting Daryl, as well.

"Don't let her hurt you," Michonne offered in Carol's direction. "Judith—the baby is very small. You're not going to feel anything."

"Not yet," Carol said.

"But soon?" Judith asked, still searching in vain for some evidence of the baby. Her favorite thing about the pregnant women she'd been around was when they were able to let her feel evidence of the baby moving. Carol had none of that to offer the child, no matter how desperately she searched for it.

"Maybe," Carol said.

"Before you leave?" Judith asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

"I don't know," Carol admitted. "Maybe—by the time you come and visit me and Daryl and Henry at the Kingdom."

"And the King," Judith offered. 

Carol smiled and nodded.

"And the King," she promised Judith. "He'll be happy to have you stay with him."

"How long will you stay with us in Alexandria?" Judith asked. She shifted around to give Carol her full attention, but her hand still didn't leave Carol's belly. Michonne hated to have to inform Carol that she might not have a moment's peace in Judith's presence. She was very likely to spend most of her time with Carol with her hand firmly pressed to what evidence she bore of the Dixon baby she carried.

Carol glanced at Daryl for an answer to Judith's question. He didn't miss the look because he was watching Carol's every move. He would have noticed, Michonne was sure, if the woman even had so much as an eyelash out of place. He couldn't have studied her any more carefully. It wasn't possible.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders at Carol's silent inquiry.

"We'll stay however long you want," he said. "You want—we'll send a message to Henry. Tell 'em to come see us here. We can stay—'til she's big enough to travel. If that's what you want." He looked at Michonne. "I mean—we wouldn't wanna impose…"

Michonne smiled to herself.

"I would be—thrilled," Michonne said, "if you wanted to stay until she's here and big enough to travel."

The warm feeling that rushed through her chest, suddenly, made her very aware that she'd spoken the truth even without fully considering it before she'd said the words.

Carol smiled to herself and her cheeks ran a little pink.

"I don't know…" she started.

"You could stay until she's born!" Judith declared. "The King could stay, too. And Henry. We have plenty of room in Alexandria and it's very safe here. Mom and I patrol the perimeters several times a day and there's always a guard."

"Judith—maybe we'll let them make their decisions," Michonne offered softly. "And you don't have to decide everything right away. Stay as long as you want."

Carol looked more thankful for permission to take her time deciding anything than she had for anything else in the past few moments. She offered Michonne a smile of sincere thanks and her eyelids sagged a little and hesitated slightly to come open again when she blinked.

"I'm not sure how long we'll stay…" She said, breathing out the words and failing to even try to finish the statement.

Michonne nodded at her.

"Judith—why don't you show Carol to her room? And then go and play with RJ for a bit outside? She might want a nap."

"I'm fine," Carol said. "I should…help out or…"

"There's nothing I need your help with right now," Michonne said. "All is quiet. You're responsible for a little one now, and I know they need naps."

Carol opened her mouth to protest, but it was clear that she lacked the energy even for that. She sighed and nodded her head before she got up from her spot. Judith grabbed her by the hand and tugged at her.

"If you're sure…" Carol offered toward Michonne and cast a glance in Daryl's direction as well.

"Get some rest," Daryl said.

"I don't want to be up all night," Carol said.

"Well wake you up soon," Michonne promised. Daryl nodded his agreement and gruffed a "Yeah" that seemed to be sufficient to convince Carol to go and take a nap. She allowed Judith to tug her toward the staircase and Michonne listened as her daughter eagerly told Carol about the room she'd share with Daryl and everything they'd do while Carol and Daryl stayed with them.

Daryl watched them both go until they'd left the room and then he stared at Michonne. She could tell that he was tired, too, but she'd rather talk to him than send him off for a nap. She knew that he wasn't even seeing her as he stared. It wasn't until she spoke that he even came into himself and realized he was staring.

"Let's go for a walk," Michonne said. "I want to show you some of the changes we've made since you were here. Just—show you a few things."

"Carol…" Daryl said.

Michonne smiled to herself.

"Will be fine while we're gone," Michonne said. "For as long as I've known her, she's always been capable of handling herself—especially if it's only to get through an hour or so of sleep."

"I told RJ I'd play with him," Daryl said. His heart clearly wasn't in playing with the boy. Michonne was sure that once she got him walking, he'd practically drag his feet. The exhaustion that came with the lifting of some worry was evident on his face.

"That's the great thing about little ones," Michonne said. "You'll learn soon. Their memories are short and they're easily distracted. As soon as you sent him to get toys, he forgot what the toys were for. Judith will entertain him for a bit. Come on—walk with me. For old times."

Daryl sat a moment longer like he was carefully considering what she said, and then he nodded. Michonne smiled at him as he stood up.

"You need to tell 'em we're goin'?" Daryl asked.

"Judith is used to the way things work around here," Michonne said. "She'll find us if she needs anything. But she's pretty independent, and there are eyes everywhere in Alexandria. Come on—let's walk."


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"I can't tell you how happy I am for you. For Carol. For both of you," Michonne said.

She'd repeated herself so many times that she half expected Daryl to point that out to her, but he didn't. He walked heavily. He walked like he could barely find the strength to lift his feet high enough to keep from dragging his feet across the reasonably even pavement of the streets of Alexandria. He was, certainly, too tired to scold Michonne for giving too many congratulations.

"We're pretty happy to," he agreed, his voice coming out nearly as heavy as his words.

"Carol looked a lot better after she talked to Siddiq. So much better, really," Michonne offered, finally feeling like Daryl might be ready to talk to her, and like there was enough distance between them and the house that she couldn't even let paranoia convince her that anyone was overhearing them and their conversation.

Daryl perked up a little and swiped his hand across his face and scrubbed at his eyes like he was wiping his exhaustion off to toss it to the side.

"Owe him one for that," Daryl said. "I believe Michael's a good doctor and all—and we're damned glad to have a doctor as close-by as Hilltop—but…I'm not sure he really gets Carol and how she can be. He started in on her blood pressure and her pulse and—hell, I don't even know what else. He started in on all of that right away. Weren't right an' if it weren't right…"

He fell off. He made no attempts to pick back up with what he was saying, but Michonne already knew what he was going to say.

"The baby wouldn't make it," Michonne offered.

"Or would suffer," Daryl said. "At the very least. She ain't had a moment's peace since then. She's constantly worried that there's somethin' wrong or that somethin's gonna be wrong."

Michonne smiled to herself. She reached out a hand to affectionately pat Daryl's shoulder as they walked, slowly, through the community. The way he kept pace with her made it clear to her that he was more than aware of what she was doing. He was expecting to go to no place in particular. He realized they were out here to talk about Carol. Anything else was extra, really.

Michonne had long since considered Daryl a friend. They had spent a great deal of time looking for the Governor, together, when he'd disappeared. It had given them the opportunity to get to know one another and, since then, Michonne had nurtured that friendship because she valued Daryl as a friend and an advisor.

And she couldn't be happier for him that he was now a husband and, soon, would be a brand-new father.

"And now she's taking a nap," Michonne said. "Resting. And she looked happy when she went to lie down. She looked lighter. She was actually glowing a little, like she should be. Siddiq understands a little about trauma, though. He understands how—well, how Carol might feel as a mother that's lost before. I'm not saying that Carol needs to be treated like she's fragile, because we all know she's not fragile, but…"

"But she needs to believe in whatever fuckin' magic she can believe in," Daryl gruffed. "She's prob'ly gonna worry herself half to death anyway."

"Exactly," Michonne offered, "so she doesn't need any help in figuring out why she should worry."

"Did you tell Siddiq all that?" Daryl asked.

Michonne smiled to herself and shook her head.

"I told him that Carol had lost before," Michonne said. "More than once. And I told him that she was worried, and she could use…whatever comfort he could give her. And that, as a personal favor, I would appreciate him giving her whatever comfort he could sincerely offer."

"Does he have equipment? For all them tests? Or was—he like just dumpin' that shit out in the sink or somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Michonne sucked in a breath, held it, and released it.

"I'll be honest," she said. "I don't know. I've never really explored Siddiq's set up."

"But you wouldn't be surprised," Daryl offered, "if he weren't exactly runnin' all the tests."

"I think that Siddiq would know that we're not all so far removed from the life that we knew before that—maybe we wouldn't think that a certain number of tests were needed to be sure that everything was progressing as it should be."

"He run tests on you with RJ?" Daryl asked.

"Once," Michonne said. "In the beginning. When I was—I guess when I was going through some similar feelings."

"You never wondered if he was tellin' the truth?" Daryl asked.

"I guess it never really mattered," Michonne said.

"A little urine and a little blood are a small price to pay for some peace of mind," Daryl offered.

"Didn't you feel that way when you saw how relaxed Carol was at the house?" Michonne asked. Daryl hummed and nodded his head. "Does it matter, then, what it took to get her to feel that way?"

"Him tellin' her that takin' her blood pressure didn't matter enough to keep doing it," Daryl said, "was the best damn thing that he coulda said. Sayin' it don't matter. Don't mean the baby ain't gonna make it just 'cause Carol's got high blood pressure. That was the best thing."

"He's right," Michonne said. "But I think he's also right in figuring that just saying that is going to go a long way toward actually lowering Carol's blood pressure significantly."

"That's why I owe him," Daryl said. "She wouldn't believe it from me. Not entirely. She needed to hear it from him."

"You could stay around," Michonne said. "He could keep an eye on things for Carol. For you. He could be the one that delivers the baby. Think how much more relieved she'd be if she knew that he was just a couple of houses away."

"We stay here for four months and you really will be sick of us," Daryl said.

"I meant what I said," Michonne said. "I don't make the offer lightly. You're welcome to stay here. Beyond that, I would love for you to stay here. The kids would love for you to stay here. I could use the help—the break, even—that I know I'd get just from having you around. And—if Rick were here? He'd be so happy for both of you. For the baby. He'd demand that you stay here and take advantage of Siddiq and Alexandria's walls. Both of us always thought that the two of you might…someday…"

"You're gonna say we took our time gettin' there," Daryl said.

"Didn't you?" Michonne asked. "I've seen the way you've looked at Carol since the very first day—the very first day—that I ever met either of you. I thought you were together. I thought you were married even then. You could have been on your fifth child by now."

Daryl smiled to himself. He shrugged his shoulders.

"We both had a lot goin' on," he said. It was no explanation, but Michonne didn't require an explanation and Daryl didn't owe her one.

"Doesn't matter," Michonne said. "All that matters now is that you're both together and you have a healthy baby on the way."

"Healthy baby girl," Daryl said, almost like he was savoring the taste of the words like Michonne might savor a particularly well-preserved chocolate bar. "Daughter."

Michonne put her arm around Daryl's shoulders and rested her hand on his far shoulder.

"And I guess—maybe Rick and maybe, even, some kind of sentimentality—all that's why I want to be here for you two. I want to be here when the baby's born. I want you two to be here. What would it take to keep you in Alexandria for a couple more months? Longer if you want. Stay forever, but, at the very least, stay until the baby's here?"

"I'll have to talk to Carol," Daryl said. "Honestly—I'm not against it. Alexandria's safer than our house. I think Siddiq is better for Carol than Michael. I'd feel better with Siddiq. We don't have as much privacy, but I think too much quiet gives us all too much time to think. So, I know which way I'll try to sway her."

"Good," Michonne said with a sincere smile. "And I'll do my best to get you as much quiet and privacy as I can. We could even look into moving you two down to the basement. It's finished, you know. It could be perfect."

"If she agrees," Daryl said.

"If she agrees," Michonne ceded. "Now—let's talk about those daddy duties."

"Daddy duties?" Daryl asked.

"Are you a father instead? Papa?" Michonne asked.

Daryl shook his head and then shrugged.

"Guess I'd—guess I'd be a daddy," Daryl said. "Never really thought about it."

"You better start thinking about it," Michonne said. She couldn't help but smile at the slight rush of pink that ran to Daryl's cheeks. For as long as she'd known him, she'd always thought the same things about him. He came across as hard—rock hard. He was the kind of man that you didn't want to mess with. He was the kind of man that would kill you just as soon as look at you if he had a reason to do so. But then, there was a softer something underneath. Michonne had seen the same thing in Daryl's older brother, Merle, the day that he'd let her out of a car—and set her free—instead of turning her over to the Governor. She'd seen the same softness in Merle Dixon when he'd given his life instead of hers.

Michonne had never told Daryl exactly what she'd seen in Merle—though she was starting to think that it might be time soon, like a legacy that the man had left with her to keep safe to share with his brother when the time was right—and she'd never told Daryl what she saw in him.

For all his toughness, his cheeks often flushed pink when anyone mentioned Carol. He smiled differently when it was a smile that was inspired by Carol.

And, now, he was going to be a daddy to a baby he'd created with the woman who seemed to have exclusive rights to the softest center spot of Daryl Dixon.

"She'll need a nursery," Michonne said. "I can help you find things. If she'll stay here, we can use RJ's things. I still have them. I couldn't bring myself to take them back to the community storage. Not yet. They're in the attic. We'll find some other things for your house if you'd like. When Henry or the King comes, we could send the things back with their team and wagon. It could all be ready for her—for your whole family—when she goes back. But we'll set her up something here so she can nest."

"Nest?" Daryl asked. Michonne smiled to herself.

"Just like animals, women nest," Michonne said. "The need for me was overwhelming every time. And, as the daddy, you'll need to bring her things to feather her nest—the crib and linens and diapers and things. She'll need maternity clothes. Not much, but a few things. And then there's all the nice little things that you should do for mama and baby."

Daryl gnawed at his thumb and stared at Michonne with a furrowed brow. She had his absolutely undivided attention.

"Those massages Siddiq mentioned would be nice," Michonne said. "Expectant mommies like those. Backs and feet get especially achy as the baby grows," Daryl nodded his head. "Good food. Snacks. Lots of belly rubs—if she likes that. Lots of anything she likes. Lots of talking to the baby and loving on mama. And—lots of reminding her, all the time, that you think she's amazing and wonderful and beautiful." Daryl looked a little concerned, and Michonne furrowed her brow at him. "You do think she's beautiful, don't you?"

"Of course," Daryl blurted quickly. "I don't talk about it all the damned time but…"

"I was just checking," Michonne said with a laugh. "Making sure."

"I was just thinkin'—you didn't get all that," Daryl said. "'Cause Rick weren't here."

Michonne winked an eye at him.

"I had a good friend that offered me some of that," Michonne said. "Enough that I didn't feel entirely sorry for myself all the time." Daryl cleared his throat and looked away from her. He'd been around, some, while she'd been expecting RJ. He'd been a decent nurse. He'd made her hot beverages, made sure she had snacks, reminded her to put her feet up, and doted on her as much as she could ever expect from a man who was a friend and absolutely nothing more. In fact, he'd gone far beyond what she ever would have expected from him.

But that was, perhaps, part of that soft side that he did his best to keep hidden.

Of course, even when he was telling her to put her feet up, he barked it like a command instead of looking at her with the soft expression that he used to suggest to Carol, earlier, that she simply sit down while they waited for Siddiq.

"Besides," Michonne added, "I had all of that before. And from what I understand, Carol's never had that."

"Prob'ly not," Daryl admitted.

"So, she should have it now," Michonne said. "And you should provide it. Don't forget, Dixon, that I know you. I know how much family means to you. Here's your chance to build your own little one."

Daryl smiled to himself. He nodded his head.

"I'ma do my best," he said.

"I know you will," Michonne said.

"I wanna—do it right, you know? Not just now, but—always. For Carol. For the baby. For Henry, even. He means so much to Carol."

"You'll do right by Carol all the way around," Michonne said, "because you want to. That's really all it is. That's all that decides the difference between the men who do and the men who don't—it's about what they want and what they don't want. You want to be the best kind of husband and father there is—so you will."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah," he repeated, with a touch more confidence. 'Hey—thanks."

"No problem," Michonne said, looping her arm through the arm of the man she considered one of her best remaining friends. He accepted her affections and relaxed under the touch after a second. "I want you both to know that I support you in this. All of it. I want the best for you both. Come on. Let's go by community storage and pick out a few things for Carol. A couple of nice presents might go a long way toward helping your case and getting her to stay here. And that's something I fully support."


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl had really gotten into making selections from the storage area. Before Michonne knew it, he'd selected a full set of furniture to send to their house for their return, and he'd selected a number of other items to gift to Carol, immediately, to help her begin to nest, as Michonne had suggested to him that she might be interested in doing. Of course, throughout the process, Michonne had helped to guide him a little in his selections.

As he continued his quest to make things perfect for Carol, Daryl seemed to lose some of the fatigue that he'd clearly felt earlier in favor of excitement for how she would react. Michonne urged him on and enjoyed watching him bask in his own excitement over what was sure to come.

When he woke Carol from her nap, Daryl convinced her that he wanted to spend some "Uncle Daryl time" with Judith and RJ. It hadn't been too difficult for Michonne to convince Carol to get some fresh air and go for a walk with her, either. Michonne promised that she'd keep Carol far away from the house and far away from storage, so that she couldn't see anything that was taking place as Daryl employed a few citizens of Alexandria to help him move things, and got Judith and RJ to help him place the finishing touches on creating a home away from home in the finished basement of the house.

Daryl was sure that, if he could show Carol how cozy and wonderful their little nest had the potential to be, she would be happy to stay there and finish building the nest herself.

Michonne thought Carol already looked happier. The nap had done wonders for the woman. After two hours of clearly much-needed sleep, Michonne thought Carol woke looking like ten years had been lifted off of her. She'd gladly followed Michonne on the walk.

Michonne had offered Carol the same warm congratulations that she'd given Daryl, but Carol's response was to smile to herself and brush fingers over her belly before she thanked Michonne with something that almost appeared to be embarrassment.

In the back part of Alexandria, they could hardly be more alone than they were, but Carol still glanced around them like she expected people at every turn. Her silver curls, let loose from the knot she'd worn her hair in before her nap, bounced around her shoulders as she looked for people she'd never find.

"I'm sure people are looking at me like—what is she doing?" Carol said. "Having a baby at her age."

"That's nonsense," Michonne said quickly and just sharply enough to make it clear that she wasn't teasing. "If anything, they're saying—look at that. Another life. These days, that's amazing."

"The more obvious it gets, the more ridiculous they'll think it is," Carol said.

Michonne's stomach churned a little as realization settled inside of her. It might have been a life that was long left behind, but Carol had been taught that everyone would judge her. She had been taught, too, that everyone would disapprove of her.

She had been taught, after all, that she was the worst example of everything human that had ever existed. And no matter how much she might not want to believe it, it was always difficult to discredit entirely what you'd been conditioned to believe.

"The more obvious it gets, the more precious they'll think it is," Michonne said. "And the more beautiful they'll think the mother-to-be is."

"When she comes, they'll think I'm her grandmother," Carol said.

"They'll think you're her mother," Michonne said, "and everyone will be begging you to let them see your beautiful baby and hold your beautiful baby."

"I'm too old to do this," Carol said.

Michonne laughed to herself though, really, she didn't feel much humor.

"Clearly Mother Nature disagrees," Michonne said. "I never thought of you as one who really cared what other people thought. At least—that hasn't been the Carol that I've known."

"I don't care," Carol said. "I thought I didn't care. But ever since…"

Michonne hummed to herself. She reached a hand out and, without asking or in any other way indicating what she intended to do, she slipped her hand through Carol's arm and fixed it so that they were walking, comfortably, arm-in-arm. Carol didn't object. In fact, she brought her hand up to affectionately hold onto Michonne's arm. Michonne reached her free hand over and gently rubbed her fingertips against the evidence of Carol's growing little one.

"You're feeling very vulnerable," Michonne said. "And that's a scary feeling. It's always been a scary feeling, but it's even scarier now. In this world and after—after everything you've seen and experienced."

She stopped their forward steps and Carol stopped with her. Michonne let go of the loop they'd created, but she rested her hand on Carol's shoulder to purposefully keep the physical connection. Since Carol neither seemed uncomfortable with the touch—as some women did—and, rather than recoil in any way, she almost seemed to lean into Michonne's affections, Michonne kept her hand on Carol's belly, occasionally moving it ever so slightly to see if she might detect any of the first twitches of the new life that grew there. She smiled to herself, fully recognizing where Judith's affections may have come from.

"It's OK to be a little vulnerable in a safe place," Michonne offered.

"Nothing stays safe for long," Carol offered.

Michonne nodded her understanding.

"Maybe you could trust that Daryl and I could—work together—to keep it safe for a little while? At least four or five more months?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"That really doesn't make me feel better," Carol said with a sigh. She put her own hand on her belly, but Michonne noticed that she didn't push her hand away. She let their fingers just barely touch. "Getting her here is only half the battle."

"If anyone's ready for a battle," Michonne said with a laugh, "her mother is. Her daddy, too."

The smile that immediately ran over Carol's face made Michonne's own heart skip a beat. She couldn't help but smile to herself.

"Can I make a request of you? Friend to friend?" Michonne asked.

"I don't know if I have it in me to grant too many requests these days," Carol said. "But—I'll try."

"Let him have this," Michonne said.

Carol raised her eyebrows in question.

"Daryl," Michonne responded to the expression. "Let him have this. He's so excited. He truly is. And he wants this for you—for both of you. He wants you to be happy more than anything in the world. Carol—he's going to tell you this and I want you to act surprised, but you need to know that he already sent your rig back. Half an hour ago. With two people who volunteered to go. He sent back everything you'll need and everything you won't need for a nursery to be prepared for you when you get back. And—he sent back word that a certain someone might want to come and visit because his mother already missed him and she would absolutely miss him by the time the wagon made it there and back."

"He asked Henry to come?" Carol asked.

Michonne nodded.

"And to bring your things from the house—just in case. At the same time, he sent a rider out to Hilltop."

"Why?" Carol asked.

Michonne smiled to herself.

"Enid's been wanting to study with Siddiq," Michonne said. "Working with him, firsthand, to get a baby here—healthy and beautiful—would be excellent training. It's the kind of invitation that she can't really pass up and, even though people are having some babies these days, it's not common enough for her to just to wait for the next opportunity she could have to work this closely with the mama. Daryl thought that having her here might sweeten the pot a little for Henry to stay."

Carol was trying to smile, Michonne was pretty sure of that, but the tears had a mind of their own as they worked their way out of her lower lids. Michonne squeezed her shoulder with one hand and used the thumb of her other hand to wipe away the tears.

"Don't do that," Michonne said. "You've got to pretend you don't know, remember? But I need you to understand exactly how serious Daryl is about making you happy. He might not know a hundred percent what he needs to do, but he's willing to do whatever he can."

"I love him," Carol said, laughing to herself at her own tears as she helped to brush them away.

"I'm happy to hear that," Michonne said. "He's a good friend of mine. And I care about him very much."

"I know," Carol said with a nod. "He cares for you. We both do."

"And—you're a good friend of mine, too," Michonne added, hopeful that she hadn't come off as callous or distant by not mentioning it before. "I'll never forget that—you loved Andrea even when I felt like I needed to punish her. You were, maybe, even one of the last friends she had that she knew loved her before…" Michonne broke off, unable to finish, but Carol didn't require her to finish. She offered Michonne a sympathetic nod and a quick hug, instead. "And I thank you for that," Michonne said when she could. "All of that."

Carol smiled at Michonne.

"You don't have to thank me for caring about someone," Carol said.

"Now I need you to do something for me," Michonne said. Carol made a face at her that only made Michonne laugh. It told her, immediately, that Carol was humoring her, but she already knew what Michonne was going to say. "It's safe here. We're doing well. I need you to stay here and rest. I need you to let Daryl rest. Let him worry about what's going on in here instead of about how to keep you safe in some house stuck out in the woods."

"The house is safe, Michonne," Carol said. "As safe as anywhere, really. Nothing is safe these days."

"Alexandria is safe," Michonne said. "And there's a lot more standing between out there and in here than just some rickety old fence, Carol." Carol sighed deeply and Michonne could practically feel everything she was going through. "I've been there. You know I have."

"Then you know how I feel," Carol said.

"Like you could crawl out of your skin," Michonne said. "And you don't even know what's got you so anxious except—just life." Carol nodded and Michonne mirrored her to nod her understanding. She squeezed Carol's shoulder muscle in her hand again. "I missed having Rick here. I missed seeing him excited to know that RJ was coming. I missed—seeing all the tender moments as he experienced RJ growing. I missed the hope he would have had."

"I'm so sorry," Carol said.

"I didn't say it to ask you to be sorry," Michonne said. "From what I've heard—Ed might not have offered you all of that." Carol shook her head, just barely. "I'm just asking you not to miss out because you're too busy worrying about everything else. Don't make him miss out because he has to worry about everything else. Let Daryl offer it all to you. He wants to. Let him give that to you. Be vulnerable, Carol."

"It's dangerous to be vulnerable," Carol said.

"And we both know that—Daryl knows that," Michonne said. "That's all the more reason that he'll appreciate it if you show him that you trust him enough to show that vulnerability around him."

"So, you're asking me to—let Daryl do what he wants to do," Carol said.

"For the good of both of you," Michonne said. "And stay here. Five months. At least."

"I thought you wanted us to stay until she's born," Carol said.

"It may have been a while since you've given birth," Michonne offered, "but you're not going to feel like travelling out there, with her, before she's a month old."

"You want me to do all this for you?" Carol said. "When you don't benefit from it in any way?" There was no attempt to hide her amusement.

Michonne smiled at her and brushed her hand over Carol's belly again. This time, Carol placed her hand directly on top of Michonne's and pressed it to her. Perhaps the baby was moving. Perhaps Carol was trying to direct her hand. If that were the case, the baby was still too small for Michonne to detect its movements. Or, perhaps, Carol was simply accepting Michonne's affection and showing her own. No matter the case, Michonne felt the connection.

"Don't be silly," Michonne said. "I'm not that selfless. I love pregnant women as much as Judith does, and I'm looking forward to having my own to dote on. And I'm looking forward to some sweet baby snuggles without having to be the one that does all the work to get that baby here and to take care of it. Besides—I'm the one that's going to benefit from all the babysitters that are about to be around here. I might actually get time to take a bubble bath. Read a book."

"And when there's a newborn crying in your house all night and you can't even sleep?" Carol asked with a teasing tone. Michonne's stomach did a little dance as she realized the woman was giving in, right before her eyes and, more than that, she was relaxing into the idea that her baby, without a doubt, would be there in a number of months to keep them all awake. Michonne smiled at her and gestured to get her walking again. She immediately looped arms with Carol once more, anxious to keep the affection flowing freely between them now that it had started.

"Then I'll roll over and sleep good," Michonne said, "knowing that I'm only Aunt Michonne and her mama and daddy can handle all the drama." She took a chance, tugging Carol gently back toward the house and hoping that she'd given the moving crew enough time to do their jobs. "Come on—let's go tell Daryl that he can start unpacking those bags you brought. I'll make you something warm to drink—like Daryl used to make me when I was expecting RJ and he would visit."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Daryl used to make you warm drinks?" Carol asked.

"You don't even know," Michonne mused. "When you were at the Kingdom and I was here, alone, waiting on RJ to come. He'd come and visit me. Check on things. Come on—I'll tell you all that makes me sure that—if you'll put down the guard and be a little bit vulnerable with him, and if you give him the opportunity to relax a little here behind Alexandria's walls—Daryl Dixon will be the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Oh," Carol said, her voice coming out warm and full of affection, "I already know that. He already is."

"Then things can only get better," Michonne assured her, holding tight to her arm as they walked.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Michonne had asked Carol to stay. She'd asked her to consider how she would feel if she could relax—simply relax—in the comfort of knowing that she was safe and protected. She could, according to Michonne, shuck off the armor that she'd made for herself. She could allow herself to be open and vulnerable—safe in the knowledge that nobody here would hurt her.

She would have a wall between her and anyone who wanted to hurt her that allowed her to drop her own. Daryl and Michonne would stand between her and the outside world.

The thought of it, really, was a nice thought.

Carol's defenses hadn't truly been down, though, since she'd married Ed. The first night that he'd lashed out at her and destroyed her illusion of safety in the arms of her husband, she'd begun constructing a wall. Through the years, she'd experienced how Ed treated her—a man she'd believed loved her. She'd seen how other people treated her when they couldn't understand why she made the decisions that she made—never really knowing what led her to make each and every one of them. She'd suffered the loss of Sophia—a loss that had practically left her feeling like there was a gaping hole where her heart had once been. And then she'd suffered the consequent losses of children that she'd sworn to protect and to love—all of it happening just when she'd begun to try to let them in a little.

Now she was married to Daryl—at least as much as the world recognized such marriages these days. Henry was almost grown and Daryl had invited him to come to Alexandria where, with any luck, he could spend time with a girl that he had a crush on while being close to Carol. Carol had a baby on the way—even though she had to remind herself several times a day that the baby was there and, now, according to Siddiq, actually healthy. She had friends—good friends—in Ezekiel and Michonne.

And the idea of letting down her defenses a little and simply relaxing—however terrifying that felt on the one hand—was a very nice thought.

Michonne had asked Carol to let Daryl be excited.

When Sophia had been missing, Daryl had been a source of strength for Carol. If she was honest with herself, Daryl had supplied her with enough strength and hope, that she was able to keep from falling absolutely apart. She was able to begin considering all the possibilities—and even to accept them as much as her heart had ever been able to accept the loss of her baby girl—under the emotional protection of Daryl's hope and confidence that he would find Sophia, if he persevered long enough and hard enough.

Carol could imagine that Daryl, if he had found Sophia, would have been the perfect man to show Sophia everything that a good man really could be.

Daryl had comforted Carol, too, over the loss of her daughter—a loss he seemed to feel quite profoundly. He mourned Sophia more than her own father ever would have mourned her.

For all his callousness, though, Carol knew that Daryl was tender underneath. Like her, he had built his walls for self-protection. His callouses had been formed by coming up against people who had hurt him and let him down, time and time again, when he'd trusted them to let him rest, for just a little while, in their shade.

Every hope he'd had—even down to the hope of finding Sophia—had been dashed against the rocks.

But he wanted to be excited.

Because Daryl loved children. He loved everything about them. He had infinite patience with their antics and their demands. Maybe, Carol thought, it was because he saw something of himself reflected in them. The little boy that had been battered and beaten—the little boy that had longed for love, of which he'd never gotten his fill—might have seen himself in other children. Carol knew that the little boy was still there, deep down, and she welcomed some of his playfulness and innocence when it escaped from the cracks in Daryl's carefully constructed walls.

Maybe, even, the battered boy inside of Daryl loved children because he wanted all children to know what he had never known. He wanted them to have what he had never had.

He wanted them to grow well, and to look forward to a bright future.

And, at the moment, Daryl was expecting to become father to his own baby girl. He was, perhaps, beginning to feel true excitement at the prospect of seeing the child come into the world to be raised between them.

Michonne asked Carol to let Daryl have this—to give him the opportunity to bask in the glow of his hope and excitement for the child.

And when she loved him as much as she truly did, how could she ever deny him that?

The kiss had been heartfelt. Eager. Hungry. It had been much more than a kiss needed to be if it were truly a kiss that communicated that he was simply happy to see her after a leisurely walk with Michonne.

The tiny human flanking Daryl, too, was an indication that the welcome back to the house was more than Carol might expect the next time that she decided to go for a walk and get some fresh air. RJ had excused himself to the living room to crash trucks into each other on the hardwood floor, but Judith was wide-eyed and grinning as she "nonchalantly" welcome Carol and Michonne back.

As soon as Daryl had hugged and kissed Carol, Carol felt the touch of Judith's hand on her stomach. She smiled to herself. Perhaps this was a sensation that she should begin to think of as normal. Daryl enjoyed resting his hand there and, now, it seemed that Judith did, as well. Of course, like mother, like daughter, because Michonne had already confessed her intention to be one of the first—if not the very first—to feel the first of the baby's movements that were detectable by anyone except Carol.

The attention didn't bother Carol, though. On the contrary, she realized that she loved the idea that her baby—if she truly made it safely into the world—would come into the presence of so many people who wanted to love her. And, Carol knew, though it turned her stomach to imagine it, if she didn't quite survive, she would at least be remembered by all those who had chosen to love her anyway.

Perhaps it was the best that anyone, really, could hope for.

"Close your eyes," Daryl said, ushering Carol toward the top of the basement stairs.

With Michonne close on their heels, with Judith following just behind Daryl, and with Daryl looking more excited than she'd ever seen him look before—even more excited than when they'd found the CDC and had the first dreams of finding something safe in this world—Carol could have never pretended that there was no indication that something was up.

So, she allowed herself to smile in anticipation. She knew that Daryl had something planned—Michonne had hinted at that—but she didn't know exactly what that might be. That part of her curiosity was completely genuine.

"What did you do?" She asked. She was aware that her face ached slightly. She was smiling even more sincerely than she meant to. Daryl smiled back at her. She could practically hear him buzzing.

"You gotta see," he said. "Close your eyes."

Carol laughed to herself.

"I won't be able to see if I close my eyes," Carol teased.

Daryl laughed.

"Asshole," he muttered.

"Uncle Daryl," Judith scolded. "Language."

"You're right, sorry," Daryl said. Of course, Carol knew he wasn't sorry. She also knew that "asshole" was, sometimes, practically a pet name for her. It was, by far, the least of the words that Daryl could sometimes choose to share with the world around him. She had no illusions at all that their daughter would grow up sheltered from bad language and, in the world into which she'd be born, Carol really didn't care. Language was, by far, the least of her concerns. "Come on—it's a surprise."

Daryl tugged Carol in front of the stairs and put his hands over her eyes to shield them so that she would be surprised by whatever he had to reveal to her. She laughed to herself, again, and brought her hands up to curl her fingers around his wrists and hold onto him. In his true excitement about the moment and, perhaps, so much beyond that moment, Daryl had forgotten some very basic information.

"Daryl—if I cover my eyes, I can't see the stairs," Carol said. "And falling down the stairs wouldn't be the best thing in the world for me or the baby."

"Oh," Daryl said. He made something of a humming noise, clearly a little embarrassed that he'd forgotten something so basic in his quest to make this perfect.

"What if I just—close them at the bottom of the stairs," Carol asked, would that be alright?"

Daryl slipped around her in a quick and fluid motion. He placed himself directly in front of her and in front of the staircase.

"That'll be fine," Daryl said. "I'll go down first."

Carol smiled to herself, remembering a time—which seemed like a million years ago—when he'd said the same thing to her. It was a time when she already knew how she felt about him, but he hadn't fully accepted how he felt about her.

"Even better," Carol said with a wink.

Nobody else around them would have any idea what the statement meant, other than showing approval for Daryl's decision to lead the way to the basement, but Daryl knew. His cheeks blushed pink.

"Stop," he muttered. Carol smiled because she understood it at a level, again, that nobody else there would. Her stomach fluttered fondly at the familiar teasing.

"Show me what you have to show me," Carol urged, softening her tone. She thought she saw Daryl shiver before he turned and slipped down the steps. She followed after him, hands on each rail, and she was aware when Michonne and Judith stepped into the staircase behind her.

At the bottom of the steps, Daryl turned back for her and reached his hands out to her. She gave herself over to him so that he could have this. She wanted it to be however he dreamed it ought to be. She even closed her eyes, as she faced him, so that he wouldn't fret that she'd seen anything she ought not to see just yet. All she'd seen was his face and the beautiful smile of excitement—reminiscent of a boy on Christmas morning—and that was a vision that she was happy to hold onto, just behind her eyelids, as Daryl turned her around, hugged her against him, and covered her eyes with his hands.

He urged her forward and she walked with him, confident that he wouldn't let her trip. With the way he was holding her, she knew she'd never hit the ground, not even if she stumbled.

"It's all here," Daryl said. "But it ain't all put together. Thought you'd be better at that than me. Thought you might wanna do it yourself."

He dropped his hands, but like a second thought, he stopped them before they left Carol entirely. For just a second, they hovered out in front of her as he hesitated to make a decision, and then he rested them both—one on either side—on her belly until his fingers touched. The movement hugged her into him and she closed her eyes, for just a moment, to drink it in.

The basement was a fully finished basement.

Carol didn't know what had been down there to start with, but it was evident that Daryl had done his best to bring in furniture that would clearly section it off. Looking around, Carol smiled to herself. He'd made a clear living area. There was a bed for the two of them to share. And, as well, there was a crib and a rocking chair that marked what Daryl clearly had envisioned as something of a nursery.

Everywhere there were boxes and bags and things scattered.

But the intention was clear.

Daryl was trying to give her a home here in Alexandria. He was trying to give her something of her own, but he was trying to put it close enough to Michonne that they could all lean on one another. He was trying to give her somewhere safe where she could relax and they could face this next chapter of their lives—their first real chapter as a family.

And the basement did feel remarkably comfortable and cozy. And Carol did feel oddly safe there—though being wrapped in Daryl's arms might have had something to do with that feeling.

"I love it," Carol said. It came out much more softly than she'd meant for it to be.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"I love it," Carol said more loudly.

"You do?" Daryl asked. She could hear him brimming with hope. He squeezed her gently, just enough to give her something of a hug.

"I do," she said, covering his hands with her own.

"You wanna—fix it up?" Daryl asked. "We can spend the winter here. Wait for her."

Carol smiled to herself.

"I think we could do that," Carol said.

"You serious?" Daryl asked.

Carol swallowed back her amusement.

"I think I am," she said. "If you are."

"Oh—I'm serious. That ain't all I got to tell you," Daryl said.

"Why don't we have something for a late lunch?" Michonne said, "Judith and I can go and get something started while you share the news."

"I wanna hear what it is," Judith protested.

"You'll find out soon enough," Michonne assured her, catching her daughter by the arm and tugging her toward the stairs. "Come on—we'll make something for Aunt Carol so the baby doesn't get hungry."

"Do you know what the news is, Mom?" Judith asked, disappearing up the staircase somewhat against her will. Carol laughed to herself.

She already knew what Daryl's news was, but she had sworn to pretend that she didn't. She turned to him as soon as Michonne and Judith were clear of the stairs.

"You serious that we might stay here?" Daryl asked. She nodded her head. With how much it clearly meant to him, she wasn't sure she could have said no, even if that's what she'd really meant. "You like it?"

Carol smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back. She could convince him, she was sure, to let her give him a really proper haircut soon. She was almost certain he'd give her anything she wanted—especially since she was more than willing to give him whatever it was that was truly important to him.

"I love what you've tried to do for me," Carol assured him. "It's a bit of a mess right now, but we'll clean it up."

"Didn't want to put it together too much," Daryl said. "Michonne said you'd appreciate gettin' to put it together yourself. She said it'd be important to you. Buildin' a nest."

Carol smiled to herself.

"I might really enjoy that," she said sincerely. "And I love you for giving it to me."

"Then you really gonna love what else I got to tell you," Daryl said. She saw his Adam's apple bob. A hint of a smile played at his lips. Carol smiled back at him. She kissed him because she couldn't help herself. He was surprised by the kiss, but the smiled didn't fade at all when she looked at him again.

"I'm sure I'll love it," she said. And she meant it, because she already knew what he was going to tell her—even if she fully intended to let him have his moment of glory.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Are you really going to stay with us forever?" Judith asked.

"Judith," Michonne said. It was the only word of warning that she offered, and it was half-hearted at best.

Judith still looked at Carol expectantly, with her lips almost pursed. Carol swallowed back her amusement at the little girl's expression.

Daryl was playing in the floor with RJ. RJ had brought him a large box full of trains, village pieces, and railroad track pieces. Together, the two of them were constructing a track that ran around the chair where Michonne was sitting. RJ thought it was hilarious that his mother gave him a false stern expression every time he placed another fake tree or boulder around her feet.

Daryl seemed to be enjoying himself as much as the little boy, and Carol thought that, maybe, it was good for the both of them that they had time to build train tracks that they could push the little trains along.

Carol sat on the couch with her feet curled up under her. Judith sat next to her with her hand resting on Carol's belly. She had, earlier, been reclining with her head resting on Carol's belly, and she'd insisted that she could hear the baby—which was only the sound of a nice dinner digesting, really, in Carol's stomach—but Michonne had made her stop when her imagination had taken over a bit and, in an attempt to stir people up, she'd declared loudly that the baby was growling and, therefore, was very likely a Walker.

It had only been a joke, and Carol hadn't been disturbed by Judith's game, but Michonne had really not cared for it and she'd threatened to banish the little girl to her bedroom if she continued.

So, now, Judith settled for petting Carol's belly and trying to extract more promises from her beyond the original one she'd given that she'd stay until the baby was born.

Daryl had told her that he'd invited Henry to come and stay at Alexandria if he wanted. He told her, too, that he'd turned her into a bit of a medical lesson by inviting Enid to study with Siddiq and work closely with learning how to handle prenatal care and, eventually, delivery. Carol knew that the promise would require her to gladly submit herself to a great deal of poking, prodding, study, and exploration, but it would be worth it if it inspired Henry to stay close by.

Carol let herself daydream a little, but she could even imagine Henry taking up residence in Alexandria and, with any luck, perhaps pursuing a relationship with Enid beyond the shy little crush stage that they'd explored so far.

She would gladly turn herself into a science experiment if it helped bring Enid and Henry closer together and helped to move their puppy love along.

"I don't know about forever," Carol said, "but—at least for a while. At least until she comes and she's big and strong and ready to travel back to our house."

"What's wrong with our house?" Judith asked.

"There's nothing wrong with your house," Carol assured the little girl. "And we're glad you're letting us stay here."

"You could stay longer, then," Judith offered.

"Judith," Michonne offered, "it's about time for someone to get a bath."

"Just a little bit longer," Judith pleaded. "RJ hasn't even gotten to play with his trains yet. They're still putting up the village."

"The trains don't have to come down tonight," Michonne said.

"Please?" Judith begged.

"Only if you stop pestering your Aunt Carol about how long they're going to stay," Michonne said. "They'll stay until she's ready to go."

"OK," Judith said, somewhat reluctantly. With no forced bath time on the horizon, though, she turned her attention back to Carol. Carol accepted that she was more of a novelty than anyone else for Judith and, as such, she was going to be the center of the girl's attention until she got her fill.

It had been a while since she'd been so interesting to a child.

There were times, in the past, that she knew it would have made her uncomfortable. At the moment, however, it just made her feel warm. She enjoyed, too, the feeling of the little girl's hand stroking her belly—reminding her that she would be a mother again, soon, to a baby girl.

And that thought, whenever it crossed Carol's mind, made her heart flutter a little in her chest.

"I'm not asking if you'll stay," Judith said. "I'm only saying that if you wanted to stay, I could be a really good babysitter. I've practically helped raise RJ."

"Judith," Michonne warned.

"I wasn't asking her to stay," Judith said.

"Close enough," Michonne said.

Judith frowned to herself.

"You've done a wonderful job being RJ's big sister," Carol said. Judith perked up a little at the compliment. "And—I'm sure you'll help me a lot when the baby comes."

"You can help her out before, too," Michonne offered. "You can—bring her things and help her with things like putting on her shoes."

Judith laughed.

"You can't put your shoes on?" Judith asked Carol. Carol laughed to herself.

"She'll struggle with it as that baby grows," Michonne said. "You don't remember that well when RJ was born, but she'll struggle with picking things up and putting on her shoes. Everything."

"And I'll appreciate the help then, too," Carol promised Judith. "I know you're going to be so good at helping me with everything."

Judith beamed at the praise.

"Mom said you're real good at cooking," Judith said.

"I'm not any better than your mom," Carol assured her. "That dinner was the best I've had in a long time."

Judith looked over her shoulder at Michonne like she was disappointed in Michonne's potential dishonesty. Carol wished she'd just accepted the compliment.

"Your Aunt Carol is being modest," Michonne offered.

"What does that mean?" Judith asked.

"It's when—someone pretends that something you say about them isn't true because they don't want to sound proud," Michonne said.

"That's exactly what Carol's bein'," Daryl tossed out from the floor, where he was arranging some small houses that RJ had given him to place out around the legs of Michonne's chair. "She's the best cook I've ever known—sorry 'Chonne."

"You're forgiven," Michonne said, changing her position so that she could pick her feet up. She hung her legs over the arm of the chair to allow RJ and Daryl to have more room for their toys and accessories. "It's true. And your Aunt Carol can bake—but really well. Better than my cookies."

"You can make cookies?" Judith asked Carol.

"I can make cookies," Carol ceded.

"Can you make cookies with me?" Judith asked. She changed her position, putting her weight on the hand she rested on Carol's belly to push herself into a new position. Carol gasped at the sharp gouging of a tiny palm pressed hard into her abdomen.

"Judith!" Michonne barked.

Judith jumped and Carol grabbed at the little girl, pulling her into her.

"It's OK," Carol said.

"You can't be rough with your Aunt Carol!" Michonne said. "And you can't poke her constantly. You're going to hurt her. You've got to take your hands off her! You'll make her sore!"

"It's OK," Carol repeated.

"I'm sorry," Judith told her mother. "It was an accident."

Michonne sighed.

"I understand it was an accident," Michonne said. "But even accidents hurt sometimes. Tell her you're sorry and go take your bath."

Judith's bottom lip rolled out far enough that it broke Carol's heart. She wanted to tell Judith that she had to be tougher than that—she couldn't be so upset over something so small—but everything in her body tugged at her to be gentle with the girl. Maybe she was already letting down her walls in the way that Michonne had asked her to do. Or, more than likely, her body was already pumping hormones through her system that would prepare her to be tender and to answer to the needs of a little one that would be making demands that sometimes seemed unreasonable or impossible.

Carol reached her hand and stroked Judith's head. She offered the girl a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry," Judith said with all the sincerity that her limited years could allow her to muster.

"It's OK," Carol promised her. "You didn't hurt her, and you didn't really hurt me. You just surprised me. I know it was an accident."

Judith turned her head and looked over her shoulder at Michonne. Michonne's expression had softened, but only just a little. Carol understood exactly what Michonne had to do. She was tired. It was time for her children—at least one of them—to start winding down. Judith had had a big day, and she'd been very wound up by visitors, the prospect of a brand-new baby to play with, Daryl's attempt to gather everything Carol might want to burrow through to furnish a home, the fact that they were going to stay there for some time, and the fact that Henry and Enid might be coming to visit.

It was a lot for a little child.

Judith was wired and probably close to being overly tired, and Michonne needed her to get a bath and get into bed before Michonne was forced into being overly tired as well.

She needed to soften a little—because it wasn't the serious offense that it had seemed to be, since Carol realized that her accidental gasp had likely alerted something primal and protective in Michonne, but she didn't want to soften enough that Judith might suspect that her command was any less final than it had been.

Judith looked back at Carol.

She patted Carol's belly affectionately.

"I won't do it again," Judith offered.

"It's OK," Carol repeated. "You didn't do anything. Go take your bath and—if you want? Maybe your mom will let me come up and read you a bedtime story."

Judith perked up a little and looked over her shoulder at Michonne again.

"If you want her to read you a story," Michonne said. She didn't finish the statement, but she didn't have to finish it. Everyone involved knew what she was saying. Judith beamed at Michonne and at Carol. Carol glanced in Daryl's direction. She could see that he was pretending to be focused on setting up the little scene for RJ who was already pushing his train along the track, but he was really watching the whole scene out of the corner of his eye. He looked pleased, and Carol wasn't certain what, exactly, was making that hint of a smile linger on his lips, but she was certain that she'd find out. "Go take your bath," Michonne said. "And you can call down when you've got your pajamas on and you've picked out a story. We'll come tuck you in, and Carol can read to you."

"I know the best book!" Judith declared, leaving the couch at a much higher velocity than her mother—who was clearly hoping she would be going to sleep soon—probably wanted to see at that hour.

"What about you, little man?" Michonne asked, dropping a leg to nudge RJ with her foot. He looked at her and grinned. "You ready for a bath?"

"No! We're playin' with my trains!" RJ declared.

"And your trains will be there tomorrow," Michonne said. "But it's almost bedtime."

"Maybe Daryl wants to help RJ get a bath?" Carol offered.

Daryl looked at her. He looked, perhaps, a little panicked by the suggestion. Carol smiled at him to try to reassure him.

"You could," Michonne said. "If you want to. I can do it, though."

"It could be good practice," Carol said. "Getting started. Warming up. A baby's going to be a lot more complicated than RJ."

"Yeah," Daryl said quickly. "Yeah—I mean…I could do that. You wanna take a bath? You want me to help you?"

RJ considered Daryl very carefully. He was still clutching his train and Carol could tell that the true answer he wanted to give was that he had no interest in bathing at all.

Michonne nudged him with her toe again.

"You can leave your train just like that," Michonne said. "It'll be right there when you get up in the morning."

At that, RJ seemed a little more interested in hearing what could be negotiated.

"I have boats," he said to Daryl like he was sharing a special secret with him.

Daryl smiled.

"I like boats, too," Daryl offered.

RJ grinned and got to his feet. Daryl followed suit, though with a little more struggle to get off the floor, and he scooped RJ up.

"You can use his bathroom," Michonne said. "Judith will be in my bathroom."

"What are you two gonna do?" Daryl asked.

Michonne hummed and winked at Carol.

"All the children upstairs—and Uncle Daryl upstairs?" Michonne said, sinking back into her chair. "It's time to open that bottle of wine I've been saving. We can have a couple of glasses gone before they're ready for bed. It'll make story time a lot more interesting."

Daryl furrowed his brow and shook his head. He shifted RJ to redistribute his weight on his hip.

"Carol can't…"

"Don't worry, Daryl," Michonne said, interrupting him before he could finish. "I'm not really going to intoxicate your offspring. Get RJ started. We'll be up in a couple of minutes to say goodnight. And—Daryl? Thanks."


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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By the time that Carol emerged from Judith's bedroom to allow Michonne to pass inside and finish the bedtime ministrations, Daryl had to fight against his desire to laugh at her almost comical appearance. She looked fatigued and quite a bit like she'd just been through some kind of long and drawn out wrestling match.

"What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes and raising her eyebrow at him. It was a challenge, and he fully recognized that, but he also recognized that there was no real warning behind the challenge.

Daryl laughed to himself and tucked stray hair behind her ear before he pushed the other stray locks over her shoulder. She realized, then, that most of her hair had come loose from the clip she used to hold it in place, and she reached up, removing the clip, before she shook her hair loose around her face.

"What'd she do to you?" Daryl asked with a laugh.

"Nothing I won't survive," Carol responded with a snort.

Daryl wrapped his hand into her hair and tugged it gently, directing her head toward him. She came willingly, a half a smirk on her lips, and she kissed him.

It was a good kiss. A real good kiss. And it didn't take Daryl long to feel there was a difference in that kiss and so many others that had come before it. Carol was relaxing in a way that she hadn't really relaxed in a while. It was Carol that gathered Daryl's shirt up in her hands and pulled him closer to her so that he wouldn't end the kiss—if that had been anything he'd even been considering.

He smiled at her when she allowed it to break, and he appreciated the impish smile that she gave him.

"Break it up, you two," Michonne said.

She was standing in Judith's bedroom doorway when Daryl turned to look at her over his shoulder. There was no more sincerity to her words than there had been to any of Carol's earlier warnings. She smiled and stepped fully into the hallway. She pulled the bedroom closed behind her.

"I promote lots of loving among the parents-to-be in my household," Michonne said. "But not when I'm trying to keep it quiet enough for little eyes to stay closed."

"We were just headin' downstairs," Daryl said.

"Sleep where you want for the night," Michonne offered. "Mi casa es su casa. But—I'm turning in."

They both offered Michonne a quiet goodnight before Daryl wrapped Carol's hand in his and tugged her after him and down the stairs. On the bottom level, he took a moment to light one of the camping lamps that Michonne kept around, and he switched off the one electric lamp that she'd left glowing. Then, he took the lamp in one hand and Carol's hand in the other, and he led her to the basement stairs.

"Dog," Carol said.

"What?" Daryl asked as they reached the bottom and he took the camping lamp over to turn on one of the electric lamps. Dog, hearing his name, bounded toward Carol to demand attention and Daryl made a noise at the animal to surprise him and deter him from leaping up on Carol.

Dog would never hurt her on purpose, but Daryl didn't want him to hurt her accidentally with his enthusiasm.

"He'll need to go out, Daryl," Carol said, rubbing the happy dog's head.

Daryl blew out the flame and put the camping lamp down. He whistled and Dog stopped bothering Carol to come bounding over to Daryl to demand his attention. Daryl pulled the arm chair near the one of the little tables he'd brought down and piled high with various items. He lit a cigarette for himself and dragged a glass bowl over to use as an ashtray. While he sat in the armchair, he rubbed Dog's head and ears to satisfy the animal.

"Took him to piss while you was finishin' with Judith," Daryl said. "RJ's book was short an' he was readier for sleep than he thought he was."

Carol made her way over to the unmade bed. She looked at it, for a moment, like she wasn't sure what it was. Maybe she simply wasn't pleased with its location.

"We can move that, if you want," Daryl said. "I just put it somewhere 'til you decided where you want it."

"I might want to move it," Carol said.

Daryl smiled to himself. He was pleased with the fact that she might want to move the bed. He was pleased, too, when she started burrowing through the garbage bags he'd packed with any and everything they'd suggested someone might want to make a home.

Michonne suggested that Carol needed to build a nest. She needed to make a home. And, more than anything, she needed to make it comfortable and perfect for her family to live in. She needed to create a place where she was comfortable to wait out the arrival of their child.

Daryl reasoned that if he were too organized with the furniture and the other items that he gathered for her; Carol might simply believe that he'd arranged things how he wanted them to be. She wanted to please him, and he knew that. She had also been trained by Ed—may he forever rot in hell—to shy away from making changes or even too many suggestions.

The absolute chaos he'd created, Daryl reasoned, would make it clear that Carol was free to do what she wanted with everything—and it would give her plenty to do to keep her happy and occupied. He didn't know exactly how long women needed to nest—or even what all that required—but he wasn't going to let her run out of things to keep her entertained and satisfied enough to remain there until their daughter had come safely into the world.

"What'cha lookin' for?" Daryl asked when Carol growled instead of sounding pleased.

"Sheets, Daryl," she growled. "Our bed has no sheets. We don't have sheets."

He took a drag off his cigarette. With each word, she sounded a bit more desperate than annoyed. She sounded a bit more like the sky might be falling.

"We got sheets. We ain't sheetless. Try that black bag over there. Near the foot of the bed. One of them's a bag of nothin' but blankets an' sheets for you to pick from, Carol."

"If I can't find them," Carol grumbled, half to herself and half to Daryl, "I can just—go steal them off the bed upstairs."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"There's a whole bag of 'em, Carol," Daryl said. "Like—more'n you ever gonna need in your life."

Carol rummaged through a few more garbage bags and came up with sheets. She trailed them across the floor—half in frustration and half in satisfaction—as she spread them out over the bed and started to make up the bed.

"You want me to help you?" Daryl asked.

"No," Carol said. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine at this particular minute, Carol," Daryl offered. She straightened up, rubbed her back with her hand, and sighed. "You want me to—rub your back? I got strong hands. Prob'ly be pretty good at it."

Carol laughed to herself.

"I'm fine," she reiterated. This time she sounded a little better than she had. "And I don't need help making up the bed. I'd—really, I'd rather do it."

"Then I'ma stay right here," Daryl said. "But you ain't said no to that backrub."

Carol hummed and returned to working at the sheets.

"Because maybe I don't mean no," Carol said.

"Magic hands," Daryl offered, sitting back in his chair. Dog was done with affection for the moment and he'd gone to hop up on the couch that sat at a weird angle in the room until it was dragged to whatever position Carol thought was best for it.

"That's pretty big talk," Carol mused.

"It ain't talk if you can back it up," Daryl teased. He laughed to himself at the volleying back and forth, but he liked the lightness in her voice—and the smile on her face that he could see every time she turned her head enough for him to get a clear glimpse of it—enough to keep the teasing going for as long as she wanted to play.

"If you're really good at it," Carol said, "then I might expect a standing appointment. You might save yourself some trouble and pretend to be bad at it."

Daryl hummed at her and toyed with his lighter. He tapped it on his thigh—sliding it through his fingers until it flipped—and then then he turned it to repeat the action.

"I tell you what," Daryl said, "I'll make you a deal…"

"A deal?" Carol asked, clearly amused, as she wrestled pillows into pillow cases. Daryl resisted the urge to ask her, once more, if she wanted his help.

"You—work on growin' our kid nice an' strong," Daryl said. "And I'll rub whatever the hell you want rubbed, whenever the hell you need it rubbed."

The smile on Carol's face spread out even more dramatically. Her cheeks probably ached from it. Her cheeks blushed pink in the dim light of the basement, and Daryl felt his own face grow warm as he prepared himself for what he absolutely knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was coming.

"You might be setting yourself up for a lot rubbing," Carol offered.

"And you growin' a whole person that you gotta get outta there later," Daryl offered. "And—even though I've never born witness to it, I've heard stories about how that shit happens."

"Touché," Carol said with a laugh. "You'll rub anything, huh?"

"That's what I said," Daryl responded.

"With your magic hands?" Carol teased.

"Unless you got some damn thing else in mind, Carol," Daryl said. He tried to hold it together and pretend that he was serious—that he was entirely unaware of how quickly this conversation had unraveled and spiraled into something else, but he couldn't hold it together too long and he laughed at her. She echoed his laughter and went back to rummage through more bags, this time in a clearly better mood than she had been in before.

"I like the sound of that," Carol offered. "All of it."

"One of the many services I offer," Daryl teased.

"What are the others?" Carol asked, finding a quilt that she clearly liked and dragging it toward the bed.

"You don't get to know every damn thing at once," Daryl said.

"Your services are on a need to know basis?" Carol asked.

"They're on a need to be offered basis," Daryl said.

He watched as Carol walked at least a half a dozen times around the bed smoothing the quilt. The sheets beneath it, Daryl was sure, were so perfectly placed that they could have bounced quarters on them. The quilt was smooth and perfect as Carol raked her hands over it repeatedly to chase away wrinkles.

If she were suddenly this meticulous about everything in her nest, it would take her until the baby came to make her way through all the bags.

Daryl cleared his throat.

"We about to go to bed," he offered.

"Hmm?" Carol hummed as he drew her out of her concentration on the work she was doing. From the relaxed expression on her face, Daryl wondered if she found smoothing the quilt to be soothing.

"We about to go to bed," he repeated. "There ain't no need to make that too perfect."

She furrowed her brow at him and then smiled before she sat down on the side of the bed that allowed her to easily face him.

"I just wanted it to be nice," she said.

"It's nice," Daryl assured her. "Did you—want me to help you move the bed?"

Carol looked around, up near the ceiling. If Daryl hadn't known what she was looking at, he might have looked up himself. The way that the house was constructed, though, the basement wasn't entirely underground. All around the top part of three of the walls, there were small windows that reached just above ground level. They were designed to allow sunlight to filter into the space instead of leaving it the kind of damp and dark basement that would have been entirely beneath the ground.

She shook her head and hummed in the negative.

"I'd like to wait until tomorrow," she said. "See what the natural light is like in here."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," he agreed.

Carol looked back at him and pursed her lips somewhat as she fought against a smile. She was amused by something—likely something she was thinking. Some passing thought. She smiled a lot when she was happy and relaxed, and Daryl was glad to see it. Her hair tumbled in her face and he fought the urge to simply marvel over how beautiful she looked and how amazed he felt as his mind reminded him that she was his. She was his wife. This was their home—however temporarily. This was all theirs.

And she was all his.

"What?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Just thinkin' you beautiful," Daryl offered.

She rocked from side to side on the edge of the mattress like the compliment had filled her with some kind of nervous energy she needed to release. She looked at the pillows and then back at Daryl.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" She asked.

"You got your mouth all set for one of them backrubs, now, don't you?" Daryl teased, already getting to his feet. He walked over and Carol got up. He pecked her lips as he passed her and plugged in a lamp near the bed before he dragged one of the nightstands close to the bed. Carol turned back the blankets and made no pretense about starting to undress as she walked toward the basement bathroom.

"I'd really like a backrub," she ceded. "It sounds really nice. If you're—sure you don't mind."

"Never gonna mind," Daryl assured her. He returned to the other table long enough to switch that lamp off, and then he started working his way out of his own clothes. As he undressed, he made his way to the bathroom to join Carol. It was a full bathroom—perfect for the two of them—and she was already unpacking the items they would need: items that they'd brought with them and, therefore, were easy for her to find.

"If you're not too tired afterwards," Carol said. "I wouldn't mind—if you wanted to rub a few other things."

Daryl laughed to himself and did his best to swallow it down.

"Yeah? What'd you have in mind?" He asked.

"I'm sure we'll—figure out a few things as we go," Carol teased.

"Yeah?" Daryl mused. "Just me doin' the rubbin'? Gettin' the oxytocin flowin' around here?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"If you do a good enough job," she teased. "I'm sure that I could do a little rubbing too. Just to—help things along."


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. It's a little quiet before we start the next "chapter" of life in Alexandria. **

**Hoping this one cheers up a certain someone who knows who she is. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl was acutely aware of how rough his hands were as he kneaded Carol's back muscles. He worried that he scratched her with the bits and pieces of dried skin, in particular, around his fingertips—a side effect of the nervous biting that he'd done to comfort himself for as long as he could remember.

She didn't complain, though, at all about any of his touches. In fact, she gave him satisfied hums and moans as he worked at her back, shoulders, and neck.

He was more than a little embarrassed to say that his own body was responding to her moans alone. He had no idea how she'd respond to the news—when it undoubtedly came to pass—that he'd come simply from giving her a backrub. Since they were both without clothes, she would know if she only peeked at him to see his interest resting against his thigh.

He wasn't anxious to rush things, though. He was happy to keep doing what they were doing.

She sat on her knees in front of him because that was the position that she'd chosen. He mirrored her position.

When they'd first started, she'd insisted that she could lie down on the bed, on her stomach, without harming the baby. She'd insisted that it wasn't big enough for it to matter. She may have very well been right, but Daryl's brain simply didn't care for the idea. In the most irrational way ever, he imagined that she would somehow suffocate the baby, or even crush her, if she were to lie on her stomach. He'd made a very sincere plea that, as a gift to him, she not insist on lying down that way, and Carol had decided to indulge him.

It was better this way because, as he rubbed her back, his hands could make their way around her body and touch her in ways that would have been difficult, or impossible, if she'd been lying down. His hand had already drifted, more than once, to rub against her stomach—aware that their daughter was somewhere under his palm. She must have been sleeping because Carol didn't mention her movements or kicks as she sometimes did to let him know that she was aware of her presence.

Daryl kneaded the muscles that were low in Carol's back, and he pressed his thumbs in around her spine as his hands spread out across her hips. She moaned at him in thanks, as his thumbs worked, and arched her back. When she leaned back toward him, he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. He let his hand come free from its work to slide around her body again, pushing her back into him so that her back rested against his chest, and he moved his hand to cup her breast before he kissed the crook of her neck.

"Your tits is gettin' bigger," he offered.

Carol hummed and pushed back into him, rubbing against him, connecting them as much as she could. He moved his other hand, abandoning the back rub entirely for a moment. He spread that palm over her stomach, again, and lifted up onto his own knees to bring them close together—fitting like one spoon against another as he pressed against her back.

She would feel his erection, now, and there was nothing he could do about it. She didn't seem to mind, though, and she didn't shy away from it.

"They have to get bigger," Carol said. "They're getting ready."

"Know they got a job to do," Daryl said. Carol hummed at him. "An important one."

Carol squirmed against him as he let the hand that was pressed over her belly ease its way down to the junction between her legs. She shifted enough to spread her legs and Daryl's dick responded with a surge of interest. She moaned at him as he teased her, and he groaned at her in response.

He pulled loose from her, throbbing with his own needs at the moment, and put his hand on the back of her neck to urge her forward. She read his mind without need for drawn out discussion, and she changed her position to rest on all fours in front of him.

Daryl kissed her back and teased her with his fingers, making sure that she was as ready for him as he was for her. He was satisfied, pretty quickly, that she'd known where this was going as long as he had. She was warm, and wet, and welcoming when Daryl slid into her, and he kneaded her shoulder muscles again as she arched her back and moaned out to him in absolute satisfaction at having him inside her.

Daryl set the rhythm, for the most part, but every now and again Carol got impatient and sped them up by forcing herself back against him just a little out of his rhythm. He liked the sensation of her choosing to change things up, though, because it was a reminder that she wasn't just involved in this—allowing him to take her if that's what he so desired—she was enjoying this every bit as much as he was.

He reached his climax before she did, but it was simple enough to trail his hand around and, pulling her back against him again, to work her into finding her own release.

Carol kissed him before she left the bed and went to the bathroom. He watched her go, satisfied that there was a specific wiggle to her steps that was always evident if she tried to walk so soon after sex that she enjoyed. When she returned from the bathroom, she brought him a washcloth, and she slipped into bed beside him, this time pulling the blankets up around her.

"Massage got derailed," Daryl said, getting up to retrieve his cigarettes and ashtray. He sat on the edge of the bed and lit one. "Sorry."

Carol smiled at him. She looked almost ready to sleep, but she was clearly also happy to stay just in the land of wakefulness before closing her eyes.

"The massage was perfect," she said. "And I expected a happy ending."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That what'cha got?" He asked. "A happy ending?"

Carol hummed.

"The happiest," she said. She shifted and he turned to look at her again, checking to make sure that she didn't need something. She was only changing her position—searching out the one that was perfect for the way she was feeling at the moment. "I think—I might be on the right path for…the happiest ending I could hope for."

Daryl hummed at her and turned his whole body so he was facing her while he smoked instead of sitting with his back mostly to her.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You," Carol said. "Her? Everything. I wasn't sure if I believed in happy endings. Especially not anymore. But now? I'm starting to think that I do."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"I weren't sure I believed in a happy anything," Daryl said. "Not really. Not for me, at least. For other people. Now I know that shit's real, though."

Carol smiled at him and trailed her finger on the bed next to her.

"You're just saying that because I did," she challenged.

"You're an idiot if you think that's true," Daryl offered her. "You gotta fuckin' know how happy you make me."

"You're willing to be domesticated," Carol teased. "My Wildman."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"For you? I'd gladly be domesticated."

"I don't mind if you stay a little bit wild," Carol said. "As long as—you come back."

Daryl snubbed out his cigarette and blew the last of the smoke out of his lungs. He leaned over and quickly pressed his lips to Carol's hand where she was trailing it along the sheet. Then he moved to let himself under the cover to lie beside her.

"I ain't goin' nowhere without you," Daryl said. "Except maybe to hunt or—on runs or somethin'." Carol hummed at him and raised her eyebrows as if to say that she'd meant just that—there were times he would leave her because that was what was necessary for both of them to have the best life they could. He laughed to himself at her smug expression. "You got a damn point, OK?" He said, faking as much irritation as he could. He wasn't very good at it, and she laughed quietly. "What I'm sayin' is—I'll always come back to you."

"So, you forgive me for—trapping you, and getting pregnant, and taking you out of the woods?" Carol asked.

"So, you did it all on purpose?" Daryl asked.

"Every bit," Carol responded.

"I knew it was a trap," Daryl said. "I knew you did it. All by yourself."

"All by myself," Carol agreed.

Daryl laughed to himself. He moved closer to her in the bed and she did the same, lifting her head and lowering it so that her face was close enough to his that they were just far enough apart that his eyes didn't have to cross to focus on her. He raised his hand up and touched her cheek.

"Some damn trick," he said. "Gettin' pregnant all on your own."

"Had to," Carol said. "It was all part of the plan."

Daryl moved enough to kiss her and she moved to tangle her fingers in his hair. He felt her scratching lazily at his scalp. He let the kiss go on as long as she wanted to keep it going—their lips separating and meeting again as they tested pressures and touches.

When the kiss did break, she smiled at him all the way to her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Daryl couldn't help but smile back.

"You had to," he said. "That was all part of my plan." She accepted the gentle and quick kiss he offered her with the same enthusiasm as she had the long and lingering one before. "Thank you," Daryl said, when the kiss broke.

"For kissing you?" Carol asked.

"For agreein' to stay here," Daryl said. "I know you was wantin' to be alone. Go back to the little house and all to build you a private little nest for—for havin' the baby in. Thank you for agreein' to stay here. Build it here." Carol's smile changed a little. There was teasing there; he could see it. She didn't say anything, though, so he pressed her to let it out. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing," Carol said.

"What is it?" He asked. "I do something wrong or say something wrong?"

"No," she said.

"Somethin' stupid?" He asked.

"No," Carol said, laughing to herself. "You did nothing wrong and…nothing stupid. You did everything—everything—right." Her smile didn't fade, though it did soften. She reached a hand up and touched his lips with her fingertip. "You did everything right. Didn't you? You found me a doctor that will listen to me. That wants to help me. That thinks—I can do this…we can do this…and she can be OK. You found me a safe place to—build a nest. To have the baby in. You…you found me everything I need to build it." She paused a moment, but Daryl didn't interrupt her. He could tell that she wasn't done and, though his gut made him concerned that she was teasing him for something he'd done wrong—something he wasn't aware of just yet—his chest told him that she was being sincere. He could feel the affection practically radiating out from her. "You found a way to bring Henry here for me. You got me everything I need to have a safe, comfortable…private…place to have our daughter."

"You bustin' my balls?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed.

"No, I'm not," she assured him.

"Then why are you smiling like that?" Daryl asked.

"Because—I feel absolutely amazed by you," Carol said. "And I mean that in the most sincere way I can. But I can't stop smiling because—you make me want to smile. Everything. All this. It makes me want to smile."

Daryl hummed at her. He switched off the lamp and felt around, finding his spot next to her again. He reached for her and pulled her to him. In the darkness, he kissed her face blindly—here and there—until he found her lips. She kissed him back and worked her arms around him to hold him.

He sighed, perfectly satisfied at the sensation of having her there.

"You smile as much as you want," Daryl said. "'Cause all of this? Makes my ass happy too. More'n I ever would've thought it could."


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl did not think of himself as a man who knew much about women. He had, essentially, studied women much like he might have studied any kind of wildlife. Throughout his life, he'd mostly remained at a distance, and he'd mostly gathered information like he simply intended to learn more about a very different—and potentially dangerous—species. For the most part, though, he'd had very little close, and especially intimate, contact with women. He knew some of their habits. He'd witnessed some of their rituals. He knew some basic trivia about them.

He knew that two women together was either good or bad, and that could change in a matter of seconds. Women would either bond with each other and fight ferociously for one another—fangs and claws bared against anyone or anything that would get near the other—or they would turn those very same fangs and claws on one another.

Daryl had been told that women could be more emotional than men. He'd heard that, a thousand times over, from every man he'd ever heard pontificating about women. He wasn't entirely convinced, though, that women were all that much more emotional than men. Rather, he thought that women simply seemed to give their emotions more free-rein and, perhaps, they had a few that they used more regularly than the ones that men chose.

Daryl had been told that women, in general, were the softer and more delicate members of the species. He knew that women certainly had a soft side—or at least some of them did, and he imagined they all had, at one time or another, had such a side before something calloused it over like sandpaper on tender skin—but he did not believe them to be simply "soft." At least—he didn't believe them all to be simply "soft," even though he'd seen a few that just didn't know when to guard their underbelly, but that was true in men, too.

Daryl had been told that women, especially around certain times of the month, were unpredictable and more dangerous than usual. In general, he'd decided not to underestimate women no matter the time of the month, and that seemed to work out for him. It didn't matter what day it was, he already knew that women were complex—and, just maybe, they were more complex than men or, at the very least, more complex than most of the men that Daryl had known in his life—and it was best to simply remember that when dealing with them.

Daryl knew that any female, of any species, was a thousand times more ferocious when her offspring was involved. Hell had never created a creature any more ruthless or intense than a mother defending her young. At least—Daryl knew that such a thing applied to women who were good at being mothers. There were, though, plenty of mothers, he knew, that were simply not quite wired right for the job, just as there were men that were not quite wired right for the job.

And he knew, even though he knew next-to-nothing-at-all about the condition, that women were an entirely different animal when they were expecting young. He'd heard stories, of course, but he'd never been in truly close contact with one before. Lori had been his very first experience spending any amount of time in close proximity to an expectant mother trying to grow a little one—and already he was learning that one, especially when that one had been Lori, didn't teach him about all women.

For all his study of women before, he already knew that nothing had prepared him for what he was about to embark on. He had voluntarily moved himself from his isolated camp to a veritable sea of estrogen. In one home, he would be living with Carol, who was carrying his daughter and, he assumed, such a thing might even create some kind of double, or even triple, strength estrogen load in one human body. He would also be living with Michonne and Judith.

He, RJ, and Dog were the sole men of the household, for the moment.

And Daryl was well aware the he was working with a very limited knowledge of the species that now surrounded him.

He laughed to himself as he laid in bed, just coming into wakefulness, and thought about everything. He laughed to himself, remembering those old documentary television shows that he liked to watch—he could remember one about penguins, in particular, that had been pretty fascinating—and he could imagine the asshole that seemed hired to narrate every one of those documentaries suddenly giving voice to his life.

Daryl heard the noises that had roused him out of his sleep again. He'd almost thought he'd made them up as he was coming into consciousness. They'd stopped for half a second, but then they'd started again.

Around him, the space was just showing the light of dawn. The sun was coming up outside, and it was filtering in through the windows to illuminate the space. For a quick moment, Daryl had forgotten where he was upon waking, but it didn't take him long to remember that he was in the basement of Michonne's house, and he had convinced Carol that they could make a home out of the space. They could settle there, at least for a while, and allow her to grow their little one and to bring her into the world.

Daryl sat up as his brain slowly identified the sound as one of struggle. Immediate panic flared up inside him, but he quickly calmed as he realized that the grunting was not a Walker or anything as equally heinous.

It was Carol.

He had another surge of panic until he realized, knees shaking as he was halfway out of the bed, that she was not in pain.

"Could you please stop that?" Daryl asked. He reached for the cigarettes on the bedside table. "You're strugglin' with somethin' and I don't think that's good for you."

Carol did stop. She walked just enough for him to see her around the corner of the attic that marked the staircase and somewhat divided the area.

"I'm trying to push that couch over here," Carol said. "I think we'll like it better if it's closer to this area. We can talk easily from the bed. And it'll be closer to the little fireplace. And it won't be in the way like it is right now."

Daryl laughed to himself, but he swallowed it down.

That was another thing he was just learning about women. When they were pregnant, apparently, they had an overwhelming need to nest sometimes. He wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, and Michonne had somewhat stammered and stuttered when she'd tried to explain it. It involved making their space perfect so that they felt safe, secure, and content to carry and deliver their child there. That was the basic understanding that Daryl had of the process. He also understood that it may wax and wane throughout the pregnancy.

"How about you don't do that?" Daryl offered. "Let me help, at least, in a couple minutes?"

"You know," Carol offered, stepping fully into view, "I'm not helpless just because I'm pregnant."

She was standing, hands on her hips, in nothing more than the button-down shirt of his that she'd claimed as a nightgown and socks. Her hair was down, spilling in tangled curls over her shoulders, and her cheeks were red. She'd been toiling at whatever she'd decided to do for a while.

There was challenge in her voice.

"It took me and three other men to move that couch down here. It's got a pull-out mattress in it. Weighs a fuckin' ton. I'd rather you weren't tryin' to haul it around on your own," Daryl said. He lit the cigarette he hadn't gotten around to lighting yet. "You ain't helpless 'cause you pregnant, and I weren't meaning to imply that, and I'm not meaning to imply that now, but…you are pregnant. And we're all gonna do everything we can to make sure that'cha stay that way and everything goes good. One of the things I'm expectin' from you then—beggin' from you, even—is that you don't make that harder on any of us than it has to be."

Carol glared at him. Then her expression softened.

"I'm not trying to make anything difficult," she said.

Daryl patted the bed beside him. Carol didn't come, so he patted the mattress again.

"I know you aren't tryin' to make anything difficult, but…just don't try to move the couch, OK? If you want it moved, I'll get some help an' we'll move it. Ten times a day if that's what it takes to make you happy."

Carol frowned, but she walked over and sat down beside him.

"I don't want it moved ten times a day," she said. "But—I thought if we move the bed to that wall, it'll make this space a little nicer and a little more…apart, I guess. We can put the couch over there. I think—the rocking chair near the fire? So, it'll be warm when we're rocking the baby."

"Baby's gonna come after the winter, ain't she?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"It won't warm up right away," Carol said. "Especially not in the basement. It's already cold down here."

It was cold.

"You ain't wearin' pants, and you're wandering around out from under the blanket," Daryl said. "But—it's kinda cold down here. I'll work on getting a fire going in there later."

"I didn't mean to give you a list of things to do," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I need a list of things to do," Daryl said. "And I'd rather hear from you what you want than be left to figure that shit out on my own. I ain't no damn good at that."

Carol leaned into him. She touched his face and pulled it to her. She kissed his jaw and kissed his neck until he shivered and the shiver ran through him.

"You gotta stop," he warned her.

"What if I don't want to stop?" Carol asked.

"That's fine," Daryl ceded. "Long as you don't want me to stop. If you gonna want me to stop, then I'm tellin' you that you gotta stop."

She laughed near his ear. He knew that laugh. It was impish. Mischievous. It sent another shiver running through his body.

"I think you're good at figuring out what you need to do," Carol said, kissing his neck in between words. Daryl put the cigarette out because, for a moment, he wasn't even sure he could hold onto it. He closed his eyes. The sensation of her kisses and the sound of her voice was enough to have his whole body reacting to her. She had him in the palm of her hand, and there would be no use for him to even try to deny that fact. She didn't abuse that control that she had over him, though, so he didn't mind giving it to her. "You're so good at figuring out what you should do. For me."

Carol slipped her hand down under the blanket. Daryl had never bothered dressing the night before. She wrapped her hand around him and he groaned at her. She ducked her head, kissing his chest and working her way down, slowly lowering herself to the floor as she went.

"Hey," Daryl managed to get out, catching her by the top of her arm to pull on her and stop her descent toward the floor.

"Shhh," she breathed out to him. She smiled at him from her spot on the floor, where her knees had touched down. "Don't worry. I don't want you to stop. I want you to—relax." She pulled at her arm, quietly requesting her freedom. Daryl held tight to it, though, not entirely sure why he felt the need to protest. "Daryl?" She breathed out. He hummed at her. "You're hurting my shoulder," she offered.

"Sorry," Daryl said, letting go of her arm. She settled on her knees and pushed the blanket out of the way. She ran her tongue up the length of him and it was all that he could do to keep himself even seated on the edge of the bed. Just that simple sensation practically had him wanting to jump up to the ceiling. "Sweet Jesus," he breathed out.

She laughed.

"You like it?" She asked.

"You don't gotta do that," he said. "Somethin' about—you down on your knees in front of me like that. I don't like seein' it. What it makes me think of."

"Then close your eyes," Carol offered, relaxing for a moment and looking up at him. She was still holding him, nonchalantly and gently, in her hand. It was clear that she wasn't going to do anything he didn't want her to do, but she was also going to at least argue her case. "And think of—what it is. Not what it makes you think of."

"What you want me to think?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled and rested her head against his thigh, for a second, in a gesture of affection.

"I want you to think that—you take good care of me, and I just want to take care of you," Carol said.

"You get anything out of it at all?" Daryl asked.

Carol turned her face to kiss his thigh. Then, she kissed it a little more passionately and less playfully.

"I get to take care of you," Carol said. "And—I want that as much as you ever want to take care of me."

Daryl's only response was to brush his fingers over her face and to smooth back a few of her curls before he closed his eyes—as she'd requested of him—and put his attention on enjoying the pleasure that she wanted to give him. He knew, from his own desires to please her, that the greatest gift he could give her, at this moment, was to simply enjoy what she was doing for him.

Daryl didn't think of himself as a man who knew much about women, but he was certainly learning—and enjoying every second of it.


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Strawberry, grape, or both?" Daryl asked.

"What?" Carol asked, walking into the kitchen. Daryl had sent her to take a shower or a bath, he'd told her it was her choice. The house was still, but Carol was starting to suspect that Michonne and her little ones had been up early and were out the door.

"Would you like strawberry or grape on your biscuits?" Daryl asked. "Jam? Or you want both? Or—if you don't want none…"

He was already paused, jar in hand, with a large glop of strawberry jam hanging on the end of a spoon. Carol smiled to herself and nodded her head.

"Strawberry," she confirmed. He looked pleased with his knowledge of her, glopped the jam onto the open-faced biscuits, and nodded his head toward the table.

"Sit down," he said.

"Let me help," Carol offered. He shook his head.

"There ain't nothin' to help with. Coffee's on the table. Milk's on the table. I'm just about to take your eggs off an' bring the plates over. Sit down," Daryl said.

"At least let me get your plate," Carol said, gesturing toward the plate that was prepared.

Daryl's brows knitted together quickly.

"Sit down!" He said, frustration coming out in all sincerity in his tone. He checked himself, when Carol pulled back her hand. "Sorry," he said softly. "Just—lemme do this? Sit down?"

Carol could tell by the tone in Daryl's voice and the expression on his face that she was making an active decision—and it wasn't about herself. She could either choose to ruin Daryl's whole breakfast, and possibly set his day off on truly the wrong foot, or she could let him go back to the cheerful demeanor he'd been wearing when she came into the kitchen.

She nodded and walked over to the table. She sat.

Almost immediately, Daryl joined her. He put his plate down at the seat next to her—the head of the table, with just a corner separating them—and he put her plate in front of her. Without asking, he poured a little of the milk into her coffee, slid the coffee cup closer to her, and then poured more of the milk into a glass that he moved close to her plate. He put the sugar bowl between them and poured milk into his own coffee before he sat, clearly satisfied that they could begin breakfast.

"You did all this?" Carol asked.

"'Chonne helped," Daryl said. "I mean—I didn't know where everything was."

"Where is everyone?" Carol asked.

"Out the door already," Daryl said. "They'll be back. Had a couple quick things to take care of this mornin'. Kids went with their Ma." Carol smiled to herself at the shiver that ran up her back. "Cold?" Daryl asked. Carol laughed to herself. She hadn't even realized she'd actually shivered. She shook her head.

"Not at all," she said. "I just felt so—warm, really."

"Like a fever?" Daryl asked, his face contorting slightly.

Carol reached her hand out and patted his. Like her, he hadn't started eating yet, but he was at least holding his fork.

"Like—happiness," Carol said. "And—she's moving. I can feel her. I think she's happy, too."

Daryl relaxed.

"Yeah? What's she feel like?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"Like—popcorn. Like a little muffled pop. Every now and again. Or—like a bubble rising up to the surface," Carol said. Daryl seemed immensely pleased with the explanation, and he smiled to himself as he bit into one of his own dripping biscuit halves, his fork now abandoned. He gestured, with the biscuit, toward Carol's plate.

"Feed her," he said. "Ain't right for her to go hungry."

Carol tasted her own biscuit first, and hummed her approval, before she returned it to her plate and picked up her fork.

"Good?" Daryl asked.

"Amazing," Carol said.

"Then why ain't you finishin' it?" Daryl asked.

"I'm saving it," Carol said. "For—dessert."

"We got more, Carol," Daryl said. "You can eat as much as you want. I made 'em."

Carol smiled at him.

"I promise," she assured him. "I'll eat all that I want. I am a little mad, though."

"Mad?" Daryl asked.

"You let me do the cooking most of the time, and you could make a breakfast like this?"

Daryl smiled to himself.

"I let you do the cookin' because I like your cookin'," Daryl said. "Tastes good. Different. But I don't mind it, really. Sometimes. I only know how to make simple things, though."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Simple is perfect for me," she offered, determined to make a big show of eating as much of the breakfast as she possibly could, just for the simple happiness that it would bring Daryl.

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Daryl had sent out a rider and their rig at the same time. Their rig would be returned to the Kingdom, and the rig—belonging to Alexandria—that trailed behind it would return with the requests that Daryl had made. Daryl hoped, as well, that they would return with Henry. In Daryl's hastily scribbled note to Henry, he'd made it clear that his mother loved him very much, and she missed him always. Her health, he'd written, no matter what, would always be better when Henry was nearby. He had not failed to include, either, the fact that Enid would be coming to stay at Alexandria to help care for Carol during her pregnancy.

Henry, he'd learned through snatches of conversation here or there, had some interest in Enid. It seemed only natural, of course. They were around the same age, and they'd spent some time together. The communities were all doing their best to promote life and some sense of normalcy. They were hoping for a future. People would build lives—and part of building lives was the fostering of new relationships.

Daryl kind of liked the idea of helping Enid and Henry—if it were possible to help them with such a thing—grow closer to one another. Now that he knew the way that it felt to wake next to Carol, and to go to sleep with her in his arms, and now that he knew what it felt like to imagine that as the simple, sweet, wonderful way that his every day could happen—Daryl was sad for all the days that hadn't happened that way.

No matter how many stretched out ahead of them, he wished for more. He wished for every single one they'd missed.

He envied the fact that Henry and Enid had a chance at something like that while they were still so young—while so much time could be laid out before them—and it gave him something of a drive to help them find that.

And to protect that future they all hoped for—for himself and for Carol, for Henry and for Enid, and for every child that deserved to look forward to a long life without the thought of how it might be simply cut short because of the cruelty and injustice of the world around them.

Daryl hoped the promise of Enid's presence in Alexandria would be enough to bring Henry to stay if his drive to be close to his mother wasn't.

Daryl's note, scribbled to Enid, had come with an addition from Siddiq. The training she could receive would be particularly good in Alexandria. At Hilltop, Michael could give her hands-on training for all the things they all encountered daily, through everything they did, but Siddiq could give her the same. In addition, though, Alexandria was the only community with a woman who was currently expecting a child. Alexandria was the only place where Enid could practice becoming the doctor she wanted to be while also getting constant, hands-on practice at midwifing.

Enid was definitely coming, probably as fast as whatever pony they gave her could move, to stay for a few months at Alexandria.

And, given the relative distances between the communities and the preparation time required for each of their expected visitors to get there, Enid would arrive before Henry and, possibly, even before nightfall.

"We don't even know that anyone's coming," Carol said. Still, she didn't fight Daryl as he led her into one of the numerous houses in Alexandria that wasn't occupied—and which hadn't even been opened up since they'd gotten there.

"Smells musty as shit," Daryl said, walking over and immediately starting to open windows. "Get that one over there?"

Carol sighed, but she did start walking through the house, opening windows as she went.

"You know they're coming," Daryl said. "Enid ain't gonna pass this up."

"I think you like the idea of me spending the next four months as a science experiment," Carol teased.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Constant, daily, vigilance and reassurance," Daryl said. "That's the way I'm choosin' to look at it. And I do kinda like that idea. I think it'll be good for you. Keeps the focus on everything goin' good and progressin' how the hell it ought to." He followed her into the next room to open windows there. "Let's don't forget the upstairs."

"You think that—Enid's going to want to stay in a house by herself?" Carol asked.

"I think she's gonna like havin' her space," Daryl said.

"That's a lot of time alone," Carol offered.

Carol pretended to like her solitude, but Daryl knew that had always been something of a defense mechanism for her. In all honesty, Carol loved people. She loved being with people. She did not truly enjoy solitude. He could relate, too, though. He'd taught himself to like solitude—not really because he liked being alone so much but, rather, because he had learned that his own company was far preferable to the bad company that he normally found with most people. There was no need for him to pretend, especially with himself, that he hadn't been hiding from everything he couldn't—or wouldn't—deal with while he'd been in the woods.

Coming out of the woods, and out of his self-imposed isolation, to spend all his time in the company of Carol was a bit of an adjustment, but it wasn't nearly what he might have pretended it was or what others might have believed it would be.

Like Carol, a part of his soul had always craved connection with others, it had just taken a while to find someone who wasn't going to use that to break his heart.

"If things go well with her and Henry," Daryl offered, "then she might not be alone so much. You think?"

Carol stopped opening windows. She turned around. She smirked at Daryl.

Her hair was pulled up, but one soft and curling tendril escaped and fell down just over her face—the same one that always seemed determined not to be restrained by any pin, clip, or band that she tried to use to force it back. The sunlight, streaming in through the window that she'd just pushed open, flooded across her face.

"Are you trying to—push Henry and Enid together, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

"I'm tryin' to help 'em together," Daryl said. He crossed the room toward her. Her smile didn't fall. She was beautiful. Right there, in that moment, and looking at him that way, Daryl wished for a camera more than he had in years. He'd have to make do with telling his mind to capture the image.

"You're playing matchmaker for teenagers?" She asked.

"Not like I'm promotin' it between fourteen-year-olds or—between some thirty-year-old and a fifteen-year-old," Daryl said. "They both damn near eighteen, if they ain't already eighteen. Hell—we don't even know how old either one of 'em is. What's wrong with them—you know—findin' out they like each other?" He shrugged his shoulders. He closed the full distance between them. He tucked the stray tendril of hair behind Carol's ear before he dropped his hand and brushed it across the small swell of Carol's belly. Then, he slid it around to her side to hold her close to him.

Her smile didn't fade, but something around her eyes softened for a second before she raised her eyebrow at him.

"What do you think Maggie would say?" Carol asked.

"I don't know," Daryl said. "But—I think she'd say that the most time you can have with someone you care about is best." Carol frowned, and Daryl's chest ached for a second—throbbed, really—because he knew, like him, she'd thought of Glenn and everything he'd missed. He ducked his head, quickly, and kissed her lips gently to erase the frown. She wrapped her arms around him, her hand brushing his back affectionately, as she deepened the kiss.

He held her even after the kiss broke and, for a moment, she seemed to be trying to memorize his face as hard as he was working to memorize hers.

Then she smiled, again, and raised her eyebrow at him—all the earlier mischief flooding back to her features.

"I have to talk to Henry," Carol said. "Or someone does. We don't want our daughter and—our grandchild—to be the same age."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"We'll make sure they both get talked to," Daryl said. "Enough to make their own decisions. But there's worse damn things these days, I suppose, than more families gettin' their start." He hummed. "Right now, though, ours is the only one getting started good. Come on. Let's get the windows open. Get this place aired out."

"It's a nice house," Carol offered, breaking away from him to start walking with him, again, from room to room and opening windows.

"There's plenty of houses here, Carol," Daryl offered. "I swear. I mean it. All you gotta do is say the word and—I'll paint Dixon on the post outside of one—any one you want."

Carol turned, smiled at him over her shoulder—a soft smile, this time, and then quietly slipped into the next room.


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**Please note that I skipped a lot of the show. I fell out for a while and didn't watch the episodes I missed. That means I'm just sort of going AU here and creating mostly what I want. Many of the characters (beyond Caryl, etc.) are mostly just me creating characters with familiar names, faces, and a few familiar characteristics. Please forgive me for that. I'm sorry if it bothers you. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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The wagon barely made it inside the gates of Alexandria before Enid dropped down from the passenger seat. There were two others on the wagon who had clearly come to conduct some business in Alexandria or to visit with people that they knew there. Enid wasn't concerned with them. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Daryl called out to her to draw her attention. She smiled and waved before starting in the direction of both Daryl and Carol.

"Where's your stuff?" Daryl asked, meeting her a few steps before Carol closed the distance. "You are stayin'?"

Enid was carrying nothing, at the moment, beyond a small satchel. Daryl reached for it, and she pulled it back almost as a knee-jerk reaction, so he let her have it. He understood that it was nothing personal. It was likely not something she'd even consciously realized she'd done. They were all somewhat possessive of the few precious things they had, whether they were actual goods or their loved ones.

"It's on the wagon," Enid said. "Your letter—and Siddiq's letter—said that I should be prepared to stay here for like six months or longer. I brought everything, really."

Daryl glanced at Carol. She was beaming at the girl and Daryl smiled in response.

Enid had come a long way. She'd been orphaned, left to survive on her own, and she'd been taken in by Glenn and Maggie. In a lot of ways, Daryl knew that Carol saw some parallels between Henry's experiences and Enid's. The greatest differences, perhaps, were the parents that had adopted each of them when they'd been left with nobody to call their own in a world where, as Andrea had put it moments before she'd died, nobody could make it on their own.

Even though Enid had become the adopted child of Glenn and Maggie, she was very much the adopted niece of all of them that loved Glenn and Maggie, and she was practically Hilltop royalty. She usually stayed close to Maggie, but Maggie had gone off to try to find more people and, possibly, to learn new ways to really help their communities thrive if they should encounter new assholes along the way. She'd suggested that Enid would be safer in Hilltop, and that she'd have a better chance at a normal life there, and she'd left her behind. Enid was doing well under the care of Jesus and Tara, but it was time for her to begin branching out on her own. Like Henry, she would soon be an adult, if she wasn't technically one already—since nobody quite kept perfect track of the passage of time, nor did they know the actual age of either child when they'd been welcomed into the fold. Enid wanted to be a doctor—a caretaker, really, since titles could no longer be bestowed by universities as they once had been.

She'd been doing some training with Michael for a while but, as Daryl understood it, he'd always kept her somewhat in the position of a child with a passing interest. She learned to dress certain kinds of wounds sometimes, and she learned a few basic caregiving techniques, but Siddiq had suggested that Michael might see Enid as becoming nothing more than a glorified candy striper if he were left to handle things on his own.

Siddiq, in the letter that he'd sent to Hilltop with Daryl's, had offered Enid something entirely different. If she would commit to come and work with him, he'd said, then he would make sure that she was given every opportunity to assist in any care he was asked to give—and even to learn from some simulated events that he could create for her learning and practice.

Enid looked as refreshed as someone who had slept for seven or eight days without waking. Her energy was practically palpable in the air around them. Her eyes had that look of wild excitement that they so rarely got to see in the eyes of adults these days.

Enough had happened to her that she could be entirely jaded, but she'd chosen not to be. Instead, right now, she was excited to be embarking on her career—a dream she'd had for some time.

Daryl reached a hand out and affectionately patted the girl's shoulder. As long as she was here, they had some responsibility for her. No doubt, those who usually loved and cared for the girl would be expecting that, and they would have returned the favor for Carol if Henry were at the Hilltop.

"We'll get your stuff," he said. "Show you your place. We got a house fixed up for you. Whole place for you to do what you want."

"I'd really rather go on to Siddiq's," Enid offered, already looking in the direction of the house-turned-clinic.

Carol laughed quietly in response. She stepped up, clearly meaning to push Enid back toward the wagon so that they could get her things. Enid might have misinterpreted Carol's intention, though, because she wrapped around her in a hug that was wholly warm and familiar. Carol didn't miss a beat. She simply hugged Enid back and, when the hug broke, she affectionately tucked a piece of windblown hair behind Enid's ear.

"There's plenty of time to spend at Siddiq's," Carol assured her. "Let's get your things to your house. We took the liberty of having a few basic supplies delivered there—some food. You can get whatever you need from storage, but it'll get you started. Let's get you something to eat and let you get settled. Wash your face."

"You don't wanna show up to your first day of work lookin' like you just come up from wallowin' in the mud," Daryl offered.

There was some clear slumping of shoulders in response, but it was nothing that the two of them couldn't handle. With an audible sigh, Enid accepted her fate and returned to the wagon. Daryl thanked the guy that unloaded her things—a Hilltop native that he didn't know by name, given how many people came into the communities these days—and he asked the man to send their regards to everyone at Hilltop, and their promise that Enid would be well cared for while she remained at Alexandria, whether that was for half a year or longer.

To have brought everything she owned, there wasn't any more than the three of them could carry. Daryl took the bulk of the load, not wanting Carol or Enid to struggle under the weight of anything, especially since it was a respectable walk from one end of Alexandria all the way to the other end where they'd picked out a house for Enid.

They were quiet for the first few feet of the journey, but then the need to break the silence took over. Enid, especially when she was in a good mood or excited about something—both of which would be the case at the moment—was typically somewhat chatty.

"I can't believe you're pregnant," Enid said. Daryl was two steps in front of them, but he felt like he could practically hear Carol smile. He glanced over his shoulder at her and saw that he was right.

"I am," Carol confirmed.

"I mean—I can tellxz," Enid said. "Kind of. I mean it's not dramatic, but I could tell as soon as I got off the wagon. I didn't get to see you when you were in Hilltop. I was busy, but Michael said you were pregnant. He only talked about it, really, when I told him about the letters."

"He wasn't mad, was he?" Carol asked. "That we decided to stay here when we didn't stay at Hilltop?"

Enid hummed.

"Mad, no," she confirmed. "I mean—Tara said she guessed you came to Hilltop for a specific reason. There was something here you couldn't get at Hilltop. That's all."

"Somethin' we couldn't get at the Kingdom, neither. It weren't just the Hilltop. We came here for Michonne," Daryl said. "Carol needed to be around a mama that could understand her, you know? Understand her situation. We've all known each other a long time."

"I didn't know that I was coming to Alexandria to stay," Carol admitted. "I thought I was just coming to pay a visit. We'd stay a week or two, tops, and then we'd head back home. Plans got changed, though, rather suddenly."

"Something happened that made you change your plans?" Enid asked.

Carol hummed out confirmation that she was considering her response carefully before speaking.

"Michonne offered me something that I couldn't get elsewhere," Carol said. "The opportunity to do this with the support of a—a friend. Who had been there before, so to speak."

"The community is safer than the house by itself," Daryl said. "And Michonne's here. There ain't no shortage of supplies. We got Henry comin' now to spend the winter."

"Henry's coming?" Enid asked.

Daryl kept his face turned away from the girl. He smiled to himself.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Sent a letter out to him the same day I sent one out to you. Asked him to bring all our stuff from the cabin, too. We didn't pack like we was gonna stay the whole winter and there's things we'd like to have. Gonna take him a bit longer to get here than it took you, but he's comin'. Maybe he gets here tomorrow."

"I hope he'll stay," Carol said. "But—it's the truth. When we got here, we didn't intend to stay. It just sort of happened. The opportunity was too good to pass up."

"Don't hurt that Siddiq's here," Daryl said. "And now that I hear he's gonna have one hell of an apprentice to help keep things under control, I'm real glad we decided to stay."

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder. Carol was smiling to herself, probably more from Enid's excitement—which was practically contagious—than anything else. Enid smiled to herself, too, as she clearly imagined herself soon being the end-of-the-world equivalent to one of those high-stakes ER doctors that used to appear on television shows that were nation-wide successes.

"Michael said that was good," Enid said. "That you were here. He said that you were a high-risk pregnancy, so it's better that you've got Siddiq close by instead of being out there at the Kingdom with nobody to help if—you know, if anything happened."

Daryl bristled slightly. It felt like every hair stood up on end—like he could detect danger around them just by the mention of Michael's words. He glanced over his shoulder at Carol. Her smile had fallen, but she looked less in distress and more bothered by the sun in her eyes, so he let it be for a moment. He realized, though, that he might not have paid it any attention before, but he was every bit as bothered by Michael's words as Carol had ever been.

"Yeah," Carol mused; with much the same tone she might use with Judith. "I guess—my pregnancy could be considered high-risk. You'll have to talk to Siddiq about that when we get there. Did Michael say anything else about it?"

Enid hummed.

"Not really," she said. "Not too much. Just, you know, what I said. That it was high-risk and it would be better to have someone there to take care of things if you needed it."

"Michael don't know everything," Daryl offered.

"Daryl…" Carol offered, softly, as a gentle reminder that Enid was nearly an adult, but still a child.

"No," Daryl said. "You really thinkin' of makin' this your profession? Like you—really thinkin' you wanna be a doctor or whatever they gonna decide to call it these days?"

He stepped up the steps and onto the porch of the house that they'd picked for Enid. He opened the door and ushered both Enid and Carol inside. He followed behind them. Immediately, both of them put their loads down, content that the living room was far enough for now—and maybe it was, since Enid might want to explore her new home before choosing which of the bedrooms would be hers. Daryl followed suit and chose a spot to put down the bags he was carrying out of the way, for now.

"Say," he prompted. "You serious about this profession?"

"Yes," Enid said, very sincerely. She nodded her head.

"Then you listen to what Siddiq's got to tell you. Now—we gonna eat somethin' an' then we gonna take you down there for your first lesson, right? Carol's first—check-up or, whatever you wanna call it. With you an' Siddiq. You listen to what Siddiq's gotta say."

Enid laughed to herself, maybe a little nervously. She shrugged her shoulders and looked around her living room a little before letting her eyes settle back on Daryl.

"I thought that was the whole idea," she offered. "He's going to teach me about medicine. Treating people. Being a doctor."

"That ain't my point," Daryl said, willing himself to soften a little so that he didn't lose Enid's trust, or even her attention, because she dismissed him as a hothead. "One of the biggest things that Siddiq's got to teach you is what the hell they call a bedside manner. Now—I ain't tryin' to be an asshole, but that's a lesson that Michael could learn somethin' about. Maybe a lotta doctors could. But Siddiq? He's gonna teach you about that shit. And you oughta listen to him."

"Daryl?" Carol said, resting her hand on Enid's shoulder.

"That's all I wanted to say," Daryl said, willing himself to relax even more. "Just—that you oughta listen to him. Take in all he's gotta say. That kinda thing's important."

"And I'm sure that—Siddiq is going to cover all of that," Carol said, patting Enid's shoulder and moving the girl's long hair around like she liked simply feeling it beneath her fingers. "Enid—sweetheart—why don't you go and wash up? I know how the road is dusty. I'm starving. And—Siddiq says I should absolutely be sure to eat if I'm hungry. We'll get a little lunch together, and then we can go down and see him."


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl sat on the porch, outside of Siddiq's office, with the window open. He smoked cigarettes, watched people go about their business or choose ways to pass their idle time, and kept an ear out for what was happening inside the office.

Daryl didn't want to be underfoot for the lesson, but he also didn't want to leave. Not yet. Not for the first lesson.

It wasn't that Daryl didn't trust Siddiq—right now, he trusted the man more than he trusted most people to be left somewhat alone with Carol—but he wasn't entirely sure how the man would handle mentions of Michael. Daryl didn't think that Michael was a bad person, or even a bad doctor—not in the slightest—but he did have some questions about the man's bedside manner. He knew, though, that doctors were like every other profession in the world, and they were bound to have those that were better at certain aspects of their jobs than others.

He was relatively pleased, though, that Siddiq spent much of the first lesson going over basic bedside manner and working with a patient for the first time. He explained that there was a difference in how you handled patients in war-type situations where there was no room for niceties, and how you handled those that would be repeated, regular patients. He had Carol play the role, more than once, of a different patient, and she had Enid welcome her to the clinic and take her through a variety of questions for which she made up different answers each time. From the tone of her voice, as it carried out the window, she seemed to be enjoying herself, so that made Daryl relax a little more as he waited.

When it was actually time for Enid to get to ask some actual questions about Carol and her real situation, Siddiq had explained to her that they didn't take Carol's blood pressure. She'd questioned that, of course, based on her learning from working with Michael, but Siddiq had explained it that, though he couldn't say that blood pressure was entirely unimportant, he believed that a good doctor recognized when different things benefited their patients.

At no point did Carol express that she needed Daryl. She never sounded upset. And when she came out of the clinic, and wrapped her arms around Daryl, offering him a kiss before suggesting a walk around Alexandria, she didn't look like she'd even been mildly inconvenienced.

Daryl decided, as he shook Siddiq's hand and waved at Enid who headed off to do things that interested her, that maybe he could trust the doctor enough that he didn't have to sit in on all their lessons.

And he dropped a hand around Carol's waist to walk with her around Alexandria, enjoying, for himself, how light she looked as she commented on the colors in the trees—most of the leaves would soon fall to the ground, leaving skeletons behind to wait out the winter for their new lives in the spring.

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During the late afternoon, Daryl had gotten the assistance of several men in the community, and they'd come to rearrange the basement furniture to Carol's specifications. She'd kept the basic layout that Daryl had suggested—dividing things off to create "spaces" that would serve different purposes—but she'd made a few changes to the locations of various items.

After dinner, they'd spent a little time with Michonne, and Daryl had played a little with the children, but then they'd retired back down to the basement for a little quiet time. Daryl had enjoyed sitting on the couch, watching as Carol put away a few of the items that he'd heaped—as messily as was humanly possible—into boxes and bags.

Daryl wasn't going to mention it, because he didn't want it to be a case of too much, too soon, and he didn't want it to make Carol shy away from what they were slowly building here, but he fully intended to bring up the idea of them finding a house in Alexandria.

As much as Daryl liked the idea of living a private, reserved life with Carol and their child, he also liked the idea of remaining in Alexandria. There was no doubt about it that communities were safer than going it alone. It was easier to have supplies and food, as well, within a community. The work of so many people going into building something meant that they could cover more ground than one couple, alone, could cover. Daryl wondered, too, if their little one might benefit from playmates and the additional family that growing up in Alexandria might provide for her.

Daryl thought the brightest feather in his cap, however, when it came to be a proper time—when Carol was sufficiently happy, cuddly, and receptive to suggestion—to argue his case, was going to be Henry. If Henry came and his relationship with Enid grew more serious, they would be thinking about settling down, establishing a home of their own, and building a family. If Enid enjoyed working with Siddiq, and if he gave her as much work at the clinic as he claimed that he intended to give her, then Enid would likely want to settle in Alexandria.

Carol wanted to be close to Henry. She needed it.

Henry, as it turned out, might very well be the best reason in the world for Daryl to convince Carol that they needed to settle in Alexandria, permanently, and grow their family.

When Carol had settled on the bed with a book, Daryl slipped upstairs to get her a snack—simply telling her that he'd be back—and ended up acquiring a child as well. He knew that Carol wouldn't mind, though, and Judith was adamant about returning to the basement with him, at least until her mother came to cart her off to bed.

"We brought something to feed the baby," Judith announced, bounding into the basement area ahead of Daryl. As Daryl rounded the corner, he saw Carol put her book on the nightstand and fold up her reading glasses.

"What's going on?" She asked, sitting up a little straighter where she reclined against the headboard.

"We brought something to feed the baby," Judith repeated. She climbed quickly onto the bed and over Carol's legs. She perched on her knees on the other side of Carol and immediately spread both her hands, palms down and fingers wide, across Carol's belly. Daryl couldn't even imagine how excited the girl would be when there was substantial growth there to hold her interest.

Daryl reached the bed and handed Carol the warm mug.

"Kinda hot," he admitted.

"Oh—oh what is it?" Carol asked.

"It's milk!" Judith declared. "It's for the baby. Uncle Daryl says that we have to take care of you to take care of the baby."

Carol smiled at Daryl.

"I guess there's some truth to that," she said.

"It's milk with a lil' bit of honey," Daryl said. "Warm. Siddiq had mentioned you might like it and the milk would be good for you. Heard him say, today, you were lookin' better every time he sees you. Baby's growing."

"She's growing," Carol agreed. She rubbed her hand over her own belly, her fingers bumping with Judith's as tiny fingers sought out what she couldn't yet find.

"She pokin' too hard?" Daryl asked quietly.

Carol mouthed a "no" and shook her head at him. She smiled at Judith's touch, now turned to affectionate caressing. Carol reached a hand out and smoothed Judith's hair affectionately.

Daryl wondered, when Carol looked at Judith, if she saw the little girl the same way that Daryl did. Even while he'd been warming the milk, stirring it to keep it from scorching, and Judith had been standing on her stool next to him to watch it for any changes that might take place—helping to prepare something for the baby she already thought of as somehow belonging to her in some way—he'd thought about the fact that he was starting to see Judith, at different times, as three very different people in his mind's eye.

Most of the time, Daryl saw Judith exactly as she was—Rick and Lori's daughter. She'd been born in a prison, during a crisis. She'd lost her mother, immediately, and her father had nearly lost his mind. Daryl had nicknamed her Lil' Asskicker right out of the gate, and he'd wanted to see her grow and survive. He'd wanted to see her beat this world. He'd wanted to believe, watching Judith grow with the people she had around her to care for her, that this was still a world where babies grew up to be people with full lives and didn't simply get fed on by Walkers.

Sometimes, Daryl saw Sophia in Judith. The two girls had been terribly different in a lot of ways, so Daryl didn't so much see a resemblance in their personalities as he saw Judith nearing the age that Sophia had been when Daryl had failed to save her and her life had been cut short. He wondered if, sometimes, Judith reminded Carol of Sophia and all that she'd lost.

Other times, Daryl saw his own daughter in Judith—the daughter that he had yet to meet. The daughter that he had yet to truly feel, growing inside her mother's body. The daughter that he dreamed about and imagined whenever he had the quiet time to devote to such things. Daryl could remember holding Judith when she was a newborn. He could remember watching her take her first bottle—a bottle he'd made sure, himself, that she'd gotten—and he wondered what it would feel like to hold his daughter for the first time. He wondered what it would be like to see her feeding at Carol's breast. He remembered watching how tenderly Carol had nurtured Judith when she was a baby, and he wondered what it would be like to see her arms full of their own child—her face clearly showing that her heart was overflowing with love for the little one in her arms. He imagined watching his daughter grow in the same way that they'd watched Judith grow through all these years.

Even watching Carol affectionately smooth Judith's hair while they sat on the bed together, Daryl imagined what it would be like to have their own daughter climbing onto the bed to share time with them before they tucked her in to sleep.

He supposed, if he thought about a different way, their daughter was already there with them.

Still, he wondered, sometimes, what Carol saw when she looked at Judith, and if she saw all the things that Daryl saw.

"Milk is good for babies," Judith was informing Carol as she petted her the same way she might have petted Dog if he were interested in such things enough to abandon his slumbers on the couch. "All babies need milk. It doesn't even matter what kind of baby they are."

"You're right," Carol agreed.

"How does the milk get to the baby?" Judith asked. "Once you drink it? Do you know?"

"Well," Carol said, hesitating a moment. "You see your belly button?" Judith pulled up her nightshirt and examined her belly button. Carol smiled and affectionately reached out, gently brushing her finger over Judith's belly button. "When babies are in their mommy's tummies, there's something like a straw that goes from mommy's body to baby's body. It connects at her little belly button. And when I eat something or…drink some milk? My body divides up all the good things in the food and it gives some to me, and it gives some to the baby."

"Through the straw?" Judith asked. Carol nodded.

"It's called an umbilical cord," Carol offered.

"I don't know everything, but I do know a lot about babies," Judith said. "Like—I know you'll feed the baby when it's born. And sometimes you'll feed it with bottles, but other times you'll feed it with your breasts because that's how all mommies can feed their babies milk. Just like the cows. My mom told me that."

"You're right," Carol agreed.

"I asked my mom for a book about babies," Judith said. "From the library. She said she's going to look for one and then we can read it together. You like books, and so do I, so we can learn about babies together."

Carol swallowed back her smile so that it was present, but not as dramatic as Daryl thought it could be. She made eye contact with him, quickly, and brushed a hand over Judith's shoulder.

"I'd like that," Carol said. "You can teach me—everything I need to know."

Judith looked pleased with that idea. She was a smart little girl, and Michonne thought it was vitally important to make sure she was smart. She looked thrilled at the idea of teaching Carol, who was busy carrying a baby, all about babies.

Daryl wasn't certain that Judith knew anything at all about Sophia, and she was likely operating under the belief that Carol hadn't carried a baby before. One day that misconception would be laid to rest, but this wasn't the time.

"I know a little bit about babies," Carol offered. "But I'm sure there's a lot you can teach me."

"Is she moving?" Judith asked, her fingers still petting Carol's belly through her pajama top.

"No," Carol said. "She's not moving right now."

"Why not?" Judith asked. Carol smiled at her.

"Maybe—the milk makes her sleepy or…maybe you rubbing my tummy makes her sleepy."

Judith smiled at the very thought that she could affect the baby in some way.

"Or—maybe it's because it's late, and she needs to sleep," Michonne said. She startled all of them, and laughed to herself at the collective jumping that took place on the bed. "Sorry! I'm sorry! I thought you heard me coming down."

"It's better insulated down here than you think," Daryl offered.

"It's late, Judith," Michonne offered. "It's time for us to go to bed. Aunt Carol and the baby need to sleep."

"I'm helping the baby sleep," Judith offered. "I could spend the night down here."

"Some other night," Michonne said quickly. "Come on. I'm tired, too. Let's go."

Judith looked sorely disappointed, but she did offer a goodnight hug and kiss to Carol, which Carol returned, and she patted her belly, one more time, for good measure. She gave Daryl a hug, as well, and kissed his cheek. He hated how destroyed she looked, as he rested her feet on the floor beside the bed, that she couldn't spend the night in the basement petting Carol until she fell asleep.

"I told Aunt Carol that you're getting us a book from the library about babies," Judith offered. "So we can read it together."

"I'm sure Aunt Carol's excited," Michonne said.

"I can't wait," Carol assured her. "But, Michonne, make sure you hit some of the high points with Judith so that she knows—most of what she ought to know? I'd like to avoid too many difficult questions that I won't know how to answer."

Michonne laughed to herself.

"That sounds like a great idea," Michonne said. "But I'm sure I could use some help. Since I'm handling things alone. Maybe we could all work on that together tomorrow. As a family. When I get back from finding the book."

"Daryl—what do you say?" Carol asked. The arch of her eyebrow, and the smirk on her face said she expected him to back out of such a potentially embarrassing offer. A glance in Judith's direction, though, said that the girl was excited about the possibility of doing anything as a whole family—and she had to learn about things someday. Besides, being present would help Daryl know, to some degree, what he should and shouldn't say around her. For just a moment, Daryl saw Judith, as he sometimes did, as their daughter. And he realized that, someday, it would be up to them to teach their own daughter the earliest facts that she'd need to know about babies and where they came from since, he hoped, she would be the first of very many that would be born, and grow up, in Alexandria. He reached and patted Carol's leg, squeezing it affectionately.

"Sounds like a damn good idea to me," Daryl said. He winked at her. "I still got a lot to learn, myself."


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol hid the fact that she was amused at the idea of Daryl taking part in a birds-and-bees conversation with Judith. She didn't want to discourage him in any way. He was trying. Daryl was trying in every possible way. And he'd already surpassed absolutely every expectation that Carol could have for him.

Daryl wanted to be sure that Carol was comfortable. He wanted to be sure that she had everything—from both a physical and an emotional standpoint—that she needed to be happy, healthy, and comfortable. He wanted to be sure that she was in the best position possible to help their little one grow and thrive. She appreciated every one of his efforts, no matter how small. She recognized his intentions for what they were, and she was doing her best not to scold him—even when he did things like wake her up to see if she was sleeping well.

Daryl wanted Enid to be happy so that she could offer extra medical attention to Carol and the baby. He'd helped to make sure she was settled in her house and, during the early part of the day, when Carol had been at the clinic helping with Enid's training, Daryl had moved some furniture and extra food from the community storage down to Enid's house.

Daryl had also seen about cleaning out a house for Henry—knocking off a few layers of dust and getting it ready for occupation—since they were sure that he'd be coming soon. He could stay in Michonne's house—there was room for him there—but Daryl thought he might prefer the room to spread out a little and taste some freedom and adulthood, even though he was safely behind the same community walls as his mother.

Daryl was embracing the idea of having a family with both hands.

And, now, despite the discomfort and uneasiness that he was clearly fighting, he had agreed—rather enthusiastically, really—to sit in with Carol and Michonne and to have a birds-and-bees conversation with Judith while RJ spent some time with one of the neighbors.

"You're sure you don't want to change your mind?" Carol asked quietly when Daryl walked into the living room where she was waiting for everyone to join her.

Daryl smirked at her.

"You want this popcorn, or you don't?" Daryl asked, holding out a large bowl of popcorn. The other bowl he'd sat down on the coffee table when he'd walked in the room—a bowl for Michonne and, possibly, for Judith. Carol's stomach answered for her.

"Yes, please," she requested, laughing at the loud rumble that her stomach produced.

Daryl sat down beside her, bringing the popcorn with him. He rested the bowl on Carol's lap. She noticed that he hadn't answered her question, but she assumed his settling in next to her was what he would consider enough of an answer.

"We can handle it, you know? It might be uncomfortable," Carol offered. "When I talked to Michonne, she's kind of decided that—well, there's no need to hide anything from Judith. We maybe say things nicely, but there's no need for her not to know about something that's so natural. Michonne thinks the time for that kind of relationship with sex and reproduction has passed."

"She ain't wrong," Daryl said.

"I guess—I might have thought you'd say that she was too young," Carol said. "Maybe—that's just what's left over from growing up in a family where everything was taboo. I was a virgin when I married Ed. And—I wasn't prepared. Not at all. It was awful—I wish that I'd at least have had someone talk to me beforehand. And not to make me feel like it was all so secret and—shameful. I grew up thinking that you just didn't talk about that kind of thing, though, so you can imagine how surprised I was to find out what really happened."

Daryl laughed, low in his throat. He reached his hand over and caught Carol's hand. He worked her hand in his for a moment before he released it.

"Could have fooled me," he said. "I thought you were an expert."

Carol felt her face grow warm.

"When I asked my mother about it later, she said that she'd been raised to believe that if you told children about sex, it would make them want to do it," Carol said.

"Nature makes 'em wanna do it," Daryl said. "Don't it? I mean—even if you don't know what the hell it is, you know if you want to do it…do something. Same thing—you can know what the hell it is, but if you just don't want it, you don't." He shrugged. "I grew up with fuckin' Merle. Every damn thing I heard was about sex. I didn't really want it, though, even though I heard about it all the time."

Carol leaned and kissed him, nuzzling his hear. He shivered and she smiled to herself.

"You didn't say you didn't want it this morning," she said, settling back against the couch again and chewing her way through a few pieces of popcorn that she popped in her mouth in rapid succession. She couldn't help but smile at his expression. "You didn't say you didn't want it this afternoon, either, as I recall, when you were showing me your…advanced lingual abilities."

Daryl's face ran red, but he continued to stare at her with just a hint of a smile on his lips. When he stared at her like that, it was sometimes unnerving. She'd never had a man stare at her like Daryl did—like he just wanted to keep looking at her.

"I said I didn't want it back then," Daryl said. "My point was—I didn't want sex just for sex. Wasn't about just havin' it because I knew what it was or that…it was out there. Didn't really want it until there was someone I wanted it with."

Carol leaned against him, and he moved his arm to drop it over her shoulder so that she could snuggle closer on the couch.

"That might be one of the most romantic things that you've ever said to me," Carol said.

Daryl snorted and Carol shook as his body shook with the laughter that he held back.

"That might mean I got a lot of work to do when it comes to learnin' what the hell to say," Daryl said.

"I think you're doing fine," Carol said. "Does this mean—you want to be open with our daughter, too?"

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I mean—if you do. I mean—hell…if we gotta teach her about killin' Walkers and watchin' out for crazy assholes…all that shit? And bein' ready to kill if she's gotta…and to accept death at every damn turn? I don't got no problem teachin' her about life. Teachin' her that when people love each other—like that—they wanna show it to each other in some kinda way. I mean we tell her up front what the hell it means, and what the hell can happen…but…"

"Are you going to feel that way when she has a boyfriend?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

"Long as she waits as long as her old man did," Daryl offered with a smile. Carol knew he was teasing. He wasn't trying to hide it. He reached his hand across to get some popcorn, obviously not wanting to move the arm that was over her shoulder for now, and Carol slid the bowl closer to him. "How long 'fore she grows big enough you could—do what Michonne used to do with RJ an' balance that bowl on there?"

Carol felt an inexplicable rush of butterflies in her stomach—some of the fluttering, she knew, was the baby. Some of it, though, simply came from Daryl's words. His curiosity. She pulled away from him enough to be able to change her position, sinking lower in the couch. Gaining possession of his arm once more, Daryl sat up and turned to look at her.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "I can do that now." She rested the bowl on her stomach and laughed at Daryl's expression.

"Sit up before you end up stuck in the couch," Daryl said. "You know what I mean."

Carol did sit up again. She helped herself to another few pieces of popcorn, and she let her fingertips trail lazily over her belly.

"She's growing," Carol said. "Siddiq said she's really growing well. I feel like I double in size every night. I get up in the morning and it's just like—wow…look at all this."

"You're tiny," Daryl said. "Looks like you're skin and bones and tryin' to hide a lil' honeydew under your clothes."

Carol laughed to herself.

"The honeydew is growing," Carol said. "Trust me—she's growing. I'm starting to feel enormous."

"Tiny," Daryl insisted. "Too small." He shook the popcorn bowl at her. Though Carol felt nervous when people like Michael said she was too small, or even when Enid had repeated Michael's words a few times and forced Siddiq to say that all was well, she didn't feel nervous when Daryl said it. Daryl didn't say it so that it sounded like a portent or even a judgement. Daryl simply said it in a teasing, loving manner. When he said it, it made Carol feel the butterflies, again, that only Daryl really seemed able to stir up.

Before Carol could respond to him with more than a kiss, though, Dog came bounding into the room and came directly to the coffee table to try to help himself to some of the popcorn that Daryl had put there. Daryl hit his feet quickly, barking noises at the dog to stop him before his nose could be buried in the food, and he sent the animal off to lie down on the rug with a loud sigh.

Michonne and Judith followed directly after Dog, and it didn't take long before everyone was settled. If Daryl wanted to run—instead of being the only male representative of the human species in attendance—he'd missed his window.

Carol caught a glimpse of Michonne's former lawyer self as she spoke to Judith and practically gave opening remarks. She told her that the book she'd picked out was a grown-up book, but she thought that Judith could handle it. She told her that she thought it was best if Judith knew things, even though she had to understand that there were some things that grown ups did that were simply that—grown up activities. And then she'd opened the door by telling Judith that she could ask questions, any time she wanted, of Michonne, Carol, or even Daryl.

It was better to understand, and to have open communication with them, Michonne had decided, than it was to go trying to discover and uncover answers.

Judith's first question, when she realized she was free to ask what she wanted, was very much what they might have predicted. Where do babies come from and, more specifically, when she was pressed to elaborate, how do they get there?

"I got this one," Daryl offered quickly, like he'd been preparing for the question. Michonne waved her hand at him to say that he should answer the question. He sat forward, looking around Carol to see Judith's face, since Judith had wedged herself in next to Carol to pet her belly while they talked. "See—babies grow like anything else. The mamas got somethin' inside of them that…well, it ain't soil…but it works like soil. Good for growin' things. And the daddies…they got somethin' like seeds. So, when they—uh—when a mama and a daddy wanna grow a baby together, they do it like growin' anything else. Plant the seed. Tend to it. It grows."

Michonne's expression said she was fairly impressed with Daryl's explanation and Daryl sat back, satisfied. Carol switched hands to continue munching her popcorn, and she slipped her hand into Daryl's to squeeze his and give him physical reassurance that she was impressed with how he'd handled the situation.

"How do they plant the seed?" Judith asked.

Both Carol and Daryl looked at Michonne as if to say that it was all on her to decide how much she was really dedicated to sharing with her daughter.

"You know how boys and girls are different, right?" Michonne asked. "Their private parts are different, right? We talked about that."

"Like RJ has a penis, because he's a boy," Judith offered. "And I have a vagina, because I'm a girl."

Carol heard Daryl cough quietly. She squeezed his hand and focused on not laughing.

"That's right," Michonne acknowledged. "Well—you know what some of the animals do, right? You've seen some of what they do, and you remember that I told you that—that's what they do to have babies."

Judith had stopped petting Carol's stomach. Her hand rested there, but she was fixated on Michonne's words and her own thoughts.

"Like the rabbits," Judith said. Michonne nodded.

"Like the rabbits," Michonne said. "People do something—similar—when the mommies and the daddies want to make babies."

"Jesus," Daryl muttered and looked away as Judith turned to regard the both of them with new eyes. Carol felt her face run warm, but she was dedicated to being open and honest. She may have been taught to be embarrassed by such things, but she'd worked for a long time to teach herself that it shouldn't have to be that way. She simply nodded her head.

"It's true," she confirmed.

Judith didn't look horrified. She simply furrowed her brow and nodded, absorbing the new information.

"Did you want to ask anything else about that right now?" Michonne asked, moving from her seat to sit on the edge of the coffee table so that she could be closer to Judith. She touched Judith's knee to get her attention.

"I don't think so," Judith said.

"You can ask—when you want," Michonne said.

"Does it hurt?" Judith asked, directing her question to Carol.

"Does what hurt?" Carol asked.

"Her growing," Judith pressed.

"No," Carol said. "At least—not all the time. Sometimes—things are uncomfortable, but it's not bad hurt. It's good uncomfortable, because I know it's all to help her grow."

Judith opened her mouth like she might ask a question, then she stopped and looked at Michonne.

"Mama?" She said.

Michonne was massaging her temples with her fingertips, but she dropped her hands to her knees quickly. She smiled and glanced at Carol.

"I already know what's coming," Michonne said. "It's OK, sweetheart. I didn't mean that in a bad way. You can ask whatever you want to know."

"I know that the milk is for feeding the babies," Judith said. "And I know that all mammals have breasts and they make milk. You told me that."

Michonne nodded.

"I did," Michonne said.

"And I know how the rabbits are born," Judith said. "How do people babies get born?"

"Same way the rabbits do, really," Daryl said. He shrugged when he realized all eyes were on him. "What? They do."

Michonne touched Judith's leg again, drawing her attention back.

"Uncle Daryl's not exactly wrong," Michonne offered. "But we're not going to put Aunt Carol in a pen with hay and fur. Still—it is a lot like the rabbits, sweetheart. I know you weren't here when RJ was born, but Aunt Carol will let us know when it's time, and Uncle Daryl will take care of her, and the baby will be born. I'm pretty sure that this book is going to cover some of that if you and Aunt Carol read it."

"How much does Mama want Aunt Carol to elaborate on everything?" Carol asked.

Michonne laughed to herself.

"Honestly? As much as Aunt Carol is comfortable," Michonne said. "I meant what I said. I know that these are grown up things, but Judith is growing up. And I think she can handle it."

"Of course she can handle it," Daryl said quickly. "It ain't nothin' but somethin' natural, Asskicker. People love each other. Want to have babies together. There's a whole process you gotta go through to get the baby to grow an' be born. Same as any animal. But there ain't nothin' secret about it. Same as the rabbits. It's just natural."

"Can I watch when it's born?" Judith asked.

"Why don't we talk about that later," Michonne said. "I think—your Aunt Carol and I need to talk about that first."

"It's natural, Mama," Judith offered, echoing Daryl's words. Daryl looked a little proud of himself.

"It's natural, all right," Michonne said. "It's going to be completely natural. And it's still something we need to discuss, as adults, in private. For now, though, I think that just about covers everything that you might want to know going into your book. Do you have anything else?"

Judith considered it a moment and shook her head.

"Can we read my book now?" She asked.

"What about later?" Carol asked. "Just before bed? I'd like to spend a little time with your Uncle Daryl."

Judith looked almost deflated, and Carol felt sorry for that, but Michonne was quick to get her daughter's attention.

"Hey—that's the other thing about babies," Michonne offered. "They really grow better when their mommies get to be happy and relaxed. Besides—I'm kind of missing my babies."

Judith's dejected expression was replaced with a smile that Michonne mirrored.

"RJ's almost a baby," Judith offered.

"I thought you were my baby, too," Michonne offered. Judith's smile grew a little.

"I could be your baby," Judith ceded.

"Good," Michonne said. "Because—I was hoping to take my babies on a walk. I need your help checking the perimeter, anyway. Making sure everything's safe. You think that we could go get RJ, and maybe take Dog, and go check that out?"

Judith got to her feet immediately. Michonne followed suit and called to Dog to stir the animal for another jaunt around Alexandria.

"Don't worry, Aunt Carol," Judith assured Carol as she headed for the front door. "I'll be back before you have to go to bed."


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: I was really hung up on this one, and the person who got me unstuck knows who she is. I'm sure her suggestion was meant as a joke, but it helped anyway! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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As soon as Michonne took Dog and Judith to go and get RJ for some quality family time together, Daryl and Carol left the house to take a walk of their own. Daryl took Carol by the house that he'd chosen for Henry, just to point it out to her, and she quickly gave her approval by slipping her arm through his and pulling him toward her to plant a sweet kiss on his jaw as a sign of her appreciation that he'd done something for her son.

While they were walking, they'd been approached by one of the older ladies in the community that had met them as she was coming out of her house. She'd asked if Daryl had a moment or two to spare to help her something she needed moved around in her house. Carol had ushered him on to help the woman, and she'd told him that she'd meet him back at the house. She wanted to stop by the storage area for a few minutes, first, and then she intended to head back to relax in their little basement home.

Daryl had kissed her and sent her on her way—happy that she might actually go and get something for herself, even if it was simply some snack to satisfy a craving that had come over her—and he'd followed the old lady into her house. While he was in there, he'd moved the piece of furniture for her that she'd asked him to move, and he'd moved another piece that she realized she'd like moved while he was there. Then he'd changed a couple of light bulbs for her that she couldn't reach without a ladder—something that was, honestly, probably dangerous at her age—and he'd tightened a few things, here or there, that had worked themselves loose.

Satisfied that he'd done all he could to help the woman, he'd accepted her offer of a half a loaf of some kind of sweet-smelling bread she'd baked, and he'd headed home.

Daryl expected Carol to be back in their basement bedroom when he got there, but she was nowhere to be found. Daryl wasn't too concerned. He'd just come from outside, and he knew Alexandria well enough to know that, if there were anything dramatic going on, he would have heard some commotion. More than likely, Carol was busy looking at things, or else she'd gotten tangled up talking to someone. Her belly was just starting to be noticeable to those who didn't already know to look for it, and Daryl imagined that it was going to spark more conversations as people noticed it more readily.

Daryl grabbed a knife and a plate, and he took the sweet-smelling bread down to the basement. On his way through the living room, he'd also grabbed up the book that Michonne had brought for Judith and Carol to read together. Upon inspection, the bread that the old lady had given him—he thought she'd said her name was Mildred, or Margie, or something with an M— was some kind of cinnamon laden nut bread. Daryl ate a small piece of it, but he decided to save the lion's share of it until he'd had the opportunity to find out if it was something that Carol—or, more specifically, their daughter—might find interesting.

With little to do except wait for Carol, Daryl settled back on the bed to relax and opened up the book that Michonne had chosen for Judith and Carol to read. Michonne had already told them it was a book written for adults, and it was.

Daryl quickly scanned his memory for what he'd overheard Siddiq saying about Carol and the baby as he'd been loitering outside the office the last time. There were pages in the back dedicated to the progress of their growing baby, and Daryl settled on the page that marked the spot where he guessed Carol was in her pregnancy. He read a few pages, before and a few after, uncertain about the exact week in which Carol might be at that moment. Siddiq had admitted it was a little difficult to tell exactly, especially given that Carol had encountered some difficulty in her earliest months.

Daryl was more invested in the book than he might have wanted to admit, when he heard a loud noise. He jumped, startled by the noise, and tossed the book at the bed.

The noise repeated and his heartbeat started to slow a little as he identified the sound. Someone was thumping around in the stairwell that led to the basement and, from the sound of things, they were dragging something heavy.

"Who is it?" Daryl called.

"The Big Bad Wolf," came Carol's reply. Daryl laughed to himself when he heard her little giggle at the end.

"You need some help?" Daryl asked.

Carol bumped her way down the steps.

"No," she said. "I've got it."

Daryl laughed to himself as she made it down the stairs and rounded the corner, dragging a black bag behind her.

"First—tell me you ain't carried that big thing since storage."

"I didn't," Carol said. "Don't worry. I met—what was his name? I think I forgot to ask him his name!"

Daryl laughed at Carol's slightly horrified expression.

"You met someone that carried your bag?" Daryl offered. "It's alright, I don't remember what that woman told me her name was, and I talked to her for a while."

"He was a nice man," Carol said. "I know that he's here with his wife—they started in West Virginia, actually. They haven't been here long. They don't have any kids yet, but they're hoping to have some. Anyway—he asked me if I needed a hand just as I was coming out of storage and he carried it all the way here. I knew I could drag it once I got it in the door."

Carol stood beside her loaded black bag like a hunter standing beside some kind of trophy kill. Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself.

"That lil' trip draggin' it took it out of you," Daryl said. "I see you sweatin'."

"I'm sweating because I'm pregnant," Carol said. "And she's getting heavy."

"I looked her up," Daryl said. "In your book. Said she could easily weigh a pound, but that's not that much, Carol. A pound ain't really heavy."

"Well—I'm sure you'll show me exactly how easy it is to carry around our one-pound little dumpling when you're pregnant," Carol offered. "Why don't you take the next one, and I'll just sit it out?"

Daryl didn't miss that there was just a bit of a nip to her voice and some annoyance ran across her features.

"Don't get pissy," Daryl said. "I wasn't sayin' you couldn't feel however you feel. I was just sayin' that—I don't know shit about this and a pound don't seem like nothin'. That's all."

She frowned at him.

"I don't know if she weighs a pound," Carol said. "If she's supposed to…she's probably underweight. She always is."

"Come here," Daryl said, patting the bed. "Bring your bag. I didn't mean to ruin whatever you were doing. I'm sorry."

Carol sighed, but she did come over. She dragged her bag behind her with a little less enthusiasm than she'd shown before, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Daryl put his arm around her and hugged her to him, hoping to simply make her feel better any way that he could.

"It don't matter if she's underweight or not," Daryl said, reaching over and rubbing his hand over Carol's belly. "Siddiq says she's perfect."

Carol smiled to herself, pleased with the reminder. Daryl was simply pleased to see the smile. He rubbed her belly and she covered his hand with her own.

Daryl felt the sensation against his palm—relatively strong and almost rhythmic.

"Carol…"

"Hmmm?" Carol asked, leaning into him.

"Is that you or…her?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him. Her smile spread even wider.

"Can you feel her? She's been bouncing around since—I guess since almost when I got to the door of the house," Carol said.

Daryl smiled to himself. The sensation didn't fade for a second, and then it did. Carol moved his hand, though, just slightly, and he picked it up again.

"Not as strong," he pointed out.

"Could be her position," Carol said. "I don't know." She raised her eyebrows at Daryl. "Maybe she's scolding you for saying that it wasn't any effort carrying her around."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That ain't what I said," he said. "But—if it makes you and her feel better to scold me, go ahead. I only meant that—from where I'm sittin'? If I read she weighs a pound, that just don't seem like much. Like you wouldn't notice you gained a pound."

"It's more than that," Carol said. "It's—everything. It's not like—just gaining a pound of regular weight. She's not just in there by herself. There's fluid and…there's things rearranging to make room for her. And then there's her."

"I lost her again," Daryl said.

"She stopped," Carol said. Daryl felt his face drop. He didn't mean to make the expression. It happened before he'd even known that it would. He'd liked the idea of feeling the baby move—feeling absolute and undeniable proof that she was there. Carol could feel her, and she could narrate for him what she believed the baby to be doing, but it was different. For a moment, Daryl had touched her. "Sorry, Pookie," Carol said sincerely. "She's probably just resting. Catching her breath. She'll move around some more later." Daryl nodded and Carol's lips turned up in a smile. She leaned and kissed the side of his face. She put her hand on his cheek, and she turned his head to kiss him fully and properly. He gladly returned the kiss. She smiled at him, a little dreamy-eyed, when she pulled away. "You could really feel her?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I knew when she stopped, didn't I?" He asked. Carol's cheeks blushed a little pink like she was embarrassed for having asked the question. She nodded. "I liked it. I didn't want it to stop. I liked—touchin' her." Carol's smile renewed itself entirely.

"She'll move again," Carol assured him. "A lot more."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her, remembering the bread.

"Got somethin' for you," Daryl said. "How's she feelin' about—cinnamon and like sweet bread? Kind of a cake like thing?"

Carol looked like she considered his words a moment. She put her hand over her belly and smiled to herself.

"I don't think she'd hate it," Carol offered. "Why?"

Daryl held a finger up to tell her to wait on him and he quickly retrieved the bread, plate, and knife from the table where he'd left it. He brought it over, unwrapped the bread, and cut off several chunks to offer Carol.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked.

"Payment for helpin' that old woman with a couple things she needed done," Daryl said. "You can eat it. I tried it. It ain't poison. It's pretty good."

Carol hummed as she bit into the bread and, quickly, her expression said she was shocked by the taste of it. She hummed her approval.

"This is so good," she declared around a mouthful of the food. "Here…"

She offered a piece over, pinched between her fingers, and hovered it right at Daryl's lips. He accepted it, purposefully catching her fingers to suck them. She smiled at him, somewhat coyly, as she allowed him to do it.

"Sweetest thing ever," he said.

"I don't think it's too sweet," Carol said, helping herself to another hunk of the bread.

"I weren't talkin' about the bread, neither," Daryl offered.

Carol's cheeks blushed pinkn and she offered him another bite. He shook his head and refused it.

"For you," he said. "For her. I want'cha to eat the whole damn thing."

Carol thanked him and swallowed down what she had in her mouth. She was still holding a hunk of the bread in her hand.

"Could you wrap that up for me? I don't want to eat it all right now, but I'll eat some more later."

Daryl accepted her plan for the food and wrapped the bread up. He returned it, the plate, and the knife to the table where Dog wouldn't get it when he came down and started nosing around their space. On his way back to the bed, Daryl glanced at the black bag. He'd thought he'd managed to get just about anything that anyone could ever want or need when he'd tried to come up with a few things to help Carol nest. She still had a great deal of stuff to go through and put away—the black bags and boxes were pushed, for the time being, to the perimeters of the basement.

"What's in your bag?" Daryl asked, sitting beside Carol again. She sucked her fingers clean from the crumbs and lingering bits of flavor. She smiled, clearly happy with whatever was in her bag, and reached for the bag. She opened it.

"Batting and cloth," Carol said. "I've got a box in there with all kinds of things. Thread and pins. Needles and sewing odds and ends. Scissors. And—I've got all of this beautiful cloth to turn into squares."

She pulled out a handful of what appeared to be assorted sizes and colors of cloth rags.

"Squares for what, Carol?" Daryl asked.

She was beaming, now.

"A quilt," she said. "I'm going to make one for our bed. For when it gets cold. And I'm going to make a little one for the baby."

"We got plenty of blankets," Daryl offered. "Plenty more where that come from. We won't freeze to death. Besides—we can light a fire for heat there."

"I want to make the quilt, Daryl," Carol said. "I can work on it while we read with Judith and just—while we're sitting around. It'll be something I made, for us, while we're together. And I'll make one for her, and she can always have it for—for comfort. To remember that I made it while we were waiting on her."

Daryl felt his pulse pick up. The change in pace was fueled by the expression on her face. The tone of her voice. He could practically feel the affection and love radiating off of her.

This was important.

Daryl smiled at her.

"I think it's wonderful," Daryl said. "You know—there's that table on the other side over there that we don't even use for nothing. Lemme get your bag—you can unpack your stuff. Show me what'cha got."

Daryl accepted the kiss that she gave him and the warm hug. When she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight against her, and he returned the embrace, he couldn't imagine any blanket possibly making him feel warmer than he did at that moment, but he was still anxious to see what Carol would create.


End file.
